ROBERT 
NEILSON 
STEPHEN; 


"C 


c.       :,.  LO 


. 


•-. 


Works  of 
Robert  Neilson   Stephens 


An  Enemy  to  the  King 

The  Continental  Dragoon 

The  Road  to  Paris 

A  Gentleman  Player 

Philip  Winwood 

Captain  Ravenshaw 

The  Mystery  of  Murray  Davenport 

The  Bright  Face  of  Danger 

The  Flight  of  Georgiana 


L.   C.    PAGE   a-   COMPANY 

Publishers 
200  Summer  St.,          Boston,  Mass. 


"'WHAT    'UD    THE    COUNTY    SAY    IF    I    EXHIBITED    THIS    HERE 
BIT    O'    WRITING?'"  (See  page  t4<fi 


THE  FLIGHT  *- 
OF  GEORGIANA 

&  Storg  of  Hobe  anti  Peril  in  Cnglano 
in  1746 


JBtetlson 


Author  of  "  Philip  Winwood,"  "An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  etc.,  etc. 
illustrated  Its 

).  €. 


1  Tfre  lioness,  you  may  move  her 
To  give  o'er  her  prey ; 

But  you'll  ne'er  stop  a  lovei 

He  will  find  out  the  way. 

*  *  * 

'  If  once  the  message  greet  him 

That  his  True  Love  doth  stay, 
If  Death  should  come  and  meet  him, 
Love  will  find  out  the  way  I1" 

—  OLD  BALLAD. 


Boston 
<£  a  in 


00 


Copyright,  1905 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


All  rights  reserved 


Published  August,  1905 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &•  Co. 
Boston,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBR  PAGB 

I.  ENEMIES i 

II.  FRIENDS 19 

III.  KNAVES 39 

IV.  FUGITIVES 63 

V.  RISKS 92 

VI.  THANKS     .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .no 

VII.  KISSES       .      V«  •.•••-•. 128 

VIII.  THREATS 146 

IX.  SWORDS 170 

X.  WAGERS 190 

XL  PROPOSALS 212 

XII.  TEARS 233 

XIII.  SURPRISES 253 

XIV.  ROADS 269 

XV.  PISTOLS 295 

XVI.  HORSES 316 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

" «  WHAT  'UD  THE  COUNTY  SAY  IF  I  EXHIBITED  THIS 

HERE  BIT  o'  WRITING  ?  '  "  (See  page  149)       Frontispiece 

"  «  SAVE  YOURSELF,'  SHE  WHISPERED,  RAPIDLY.      '  YOU 

ARE    IN    DANGER    HERE'" 9! 

"THE   TWO    GENTLEMEN     MADE    THEIR    SWORDS   RING"       l82 

" '  UNCLE,  I  BEG  YOU,  ON  MY  KNEES  —  HIS  LIFE  ! '  "  .  244 
"  HE     SNATCHED    THE    HANDKERCHIEF    FROM    HER 

FACE" 296 

"THE  HORSES  DASHED  FORWARD"     ....  314 


THE   FLIGHT 
OF   GEORGIANA 


CHAPTER   I. 

ENEMIES 

A  LITTLE  before  noon  one  gray  day  in  September, 
1746,  a  well-made  young  fellow,  in  appearance  and 
fact  a  gentleman's  servant,  rode  up  the  High  Street 
of  a  town  in  the  North  of  England,  and  through  the 
passageway  of  an  inn  to  the  yard.  Having  entrusted 
his  sorrel  nag  to  an  ostler,  he  hastened  to  the  kitchen, 
and  proceeded  to  give  orders  to  the  landlady  with 
an  absence  of  deference  which  plainly  showed  that 
he  spoke  not  for  himself  but  for  his  master. 

There  are  still  a  few  English  inns  not  unlike  those 
of  that  time.  This  particular  house  was  of  dull 
red  brick,  its  main  part  extending  along  the  street 

1 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

and  pierced  in  the  middle  by  the  passageway  which 
led  back  to  the  yard.  In  the  front,  the  ground  floor 
had  four  wide  windows,  and  these  were  matched  by 
four  above,  while  a  fifth  was  over  the  passage  en- 
trance. The  small  panes  and  stone  facings  of  the 
windows  gave  the  inn  that  look  of  comfort  so  char- 
acteristic of  eighteenth-century  houses,  and  this 
was  increased  by  the  small  dormer  casements  in 
the  sloping  roof.  The  passage  itself,  paved  with 
stones  worn  comparatively  smooth,  was  capacious 
enough  to  admit  a  stage-coach  or  a  carrier's  covered 
wagon.  As  you  entered  it,  you  saw  the  yard  be- 
yond, which  was  bounded  by  a  wing  of  the  main 
building  and  by  stables,  sheds,  and  sundry  out- 
houses. Half-way  through  this  passage,  you  found 
at  your  left  hand  a  door,  which  opened  to  a  public 
parlour,  wherein  meals  were  served  at  a  common 
table  to  stage-coach  passengers  and  other  outside 
guests.  At  the  right-hand  side  of  the  passage  was 
a  wider  doorway,  giving  access  to  a  small  entry, 
from  which  you  might  step  forward  into  the  kitchen, 
or  rightward  into  the  bar,  or  leftward  to  a  narrow 
stairway  that  wound  steeply  to  the  floor  above. 

The  kitchen  was  not  the  least  attractive  of  these 
destinations,  —  with  the  ample  fire  in  its  spacious 
chimneyplace,  the  shine  of  the  pots  and  pans  on  its 
wall,  the  blackened  beams  across  its  low  ceiling,  its 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

table  devoted  to  culinary  business,  its  greater  table 
devoted  to  gastronomic  business  —  for  all  guests 
of  low  station,  including  the  servants  of  those  of 
higher  station,  ate  in  the  kitchen,  —  and  the  oaken 
settles  and  joint-stools  so  tempting  to  the  tired, 
hungry,  and  thirsty  traveller  who  might  appear  in 
the  doorway. 

"  And  lookye,  ma'am,  you'll  oblige  by  making 
haste,"  said  the  gentleman's  servant,  having  com- 
municated his  orders,  "  for  master  is  following  so 
close  he  may  be  here  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  I'll 
eat  my  bite  while  he's  on  the  way;  for  he'll  be 
having  me  wait  on  him  at  table,  and  as  soon  as  he's 
finished  his  dinner  we  shall  be  off  again,  —  there's 
eight  bad  miles  between  here  and  home." 

He  went  to  that  end  of  the  long  table  whereon 
certain  cold  viands  stood  exposed,  while  the  land- 
lady set  the  cook  and  scullery-maid  upon  prep- 
arations for  the  meal  that  had  been  ordered.  She 
then  called  a  chambermaid  and  bade  her  get  the 
Rose  —  the  best  room  in  the  house  —  ready  for  the 
meal  to  be  served  in.  By  this  time  the  gentleman's 
servant  had  helped  himself  to  a  good  slice  from  the 
round  of  cold  beef,  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  bread, 
had  obtained  a  pot  of  beer  from  the  tapster,  and  was 
seated  in  great  comfort  at  the  table.  The  landlady, 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

a  fat  and  tyrannical-looking  creature,  turned  to 
him. 

"  When  your  master  stopped  here  t'other  day,  on 
his  way  to  the  South,"  said  she,  "  he  had  nobody 
with  him  but  you.  But  now  that  he's  coming  home, 
he  orders  dinner  for  two  in  a  private  room,  and  for 
one  in  the  kitchen  besides  yourself.  How  comes 
that?" 

"  Because  he's  bringing  home  the  young  mistress 
and  her  waiting-woman." 

"  Young  mistress,  d'ye  say  ?  What,  then,  has  Mr. 
Foxwell  been  married  ?  Is  that  what  he  went  South 
for?" 

"  Oh,  God  forbid !  No,  ma'am,  'tis  his  niece, 
Miss  Foxwell,  he's  fetching  home.  She's  been 
reared  by  an  aunt  on  her  mother's  side,  but  now  her 
education  is  finished,  and,  according  to  her  grand- 
father's will,  she  comes  home  to  Foxwell  Court." 

"  Then  Foxwell  Court  was  left  to  her  ?  It  seems 
to  me  I  did  hear  summat  of  that  estate  going  to 
a  gran'daughter." 

"  'Twas  left  to  master  and  her  together  in  some 
way  or  other  —  my  master  being  the  younger  son, 
d'ye  see,  and  she  being  the  orphan  of  the  elder. 
They  do  say  master  would  'a'  got  the  most  of  the 
property  but  for  the  wicked  life  he  led  in  London,  — 
I've  heard  he  was  a  terrible  gay  man  afore  he  came 

4 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  the  country  to  live,  —  but  I  wasn't  with  him  in 
them  days,  so  can't  speak  from  my  own  knowledge." 
The  youth  uttered  an  unconscious  sigh,  doubtless  of 
regret  at  possibilities  he  had  missed. 

"  Well,  from  what  I've  heard  now  and  again 
of  goings  on  at  Foxwell  Court  since  your  master 
came  to  live  there,"  said  the  landlady,  "  he  didn't 
leave  all  his  gay  ways  behind  him  in  London;  but 
maybe  report  is  a  liar,  as  the  saying  is,  Master 
Caleb." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt  there's  summat  of  drinking,  when 
the  master  can  get  anybody  to  his  mind  to  drink 
with  —  for,  between  us,  Mrs.  Betteridge,  he  doesn't 
run  well  with  the  county  gentlemen  —  as  how  should 
he,  with  his  town  breeding?  And  I  don't  say  there 
isn't  considerable  gaming,  and  frolics  with  the  fair 
sex;  but  the  place  has  been  bachelor's  hall,  d'ye 
see,  —  till  now  the  young  mistress  comes." 

"  And  now  I  dare  say  all  those  fine  doings  will 
have  to  stop,"  said  Mrs.  Betteridge;  "  —  the  frolics 
with  the  fair  seek,  at  least." 

"  That'll  be  a  pity,"  said  a  voice  behind  her, 
whereupon  the  landlady,  turning  indignantly,  beheld 
the  stout  form  and  complacent  ruddy  visage  of  her 
husband. 

"  A  pity !  "  she  echoed,  in  wrath  and  contempt. 
"  'Tis  like  you  to  say  it,  Betteridge !  I  hope  the 

5 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

young  lady  will  keep  Foxwell  Court  clean  of  the 
trollops.  You'd  be  up  to  the  same  tricks  in  your 
own  house  if  all  the  maids  didn't  scorn  you." 

The  landlord's  only  reply  being  a  placid  puff  of 
smoke  from  his  long-stemmed  pipe,  his  helpmate 
discharged  an  ejaculation  of  disgust  and  waddled 
away.  He  took  her  place  as  catechist  of  the  serv- 
ing-man, seating  himself  on  the  opposite  bench. 

"  What  news  on  the  road,  Caleb  ?  " 

"  Nothing  to  make  a  song  of,  as  the  saying  is. 
Except  at  York,  —  we  stayed  the  night  there. 
They've  indicted  a  great  parcel  of  rebels  —  seventy- 
five  all  told,  I  hear." 

"  They  did  better  than  that  in  Carlisle  last  month, 
—  found  true  bills  against  a  hundred  and  nineteen. 
Their  trials  will  be  coming  on  soon." 

"  Ay,  before  the  trials  at  York,  no  doubt.  Well, 
all  I  can  say  is,  'tis  bad  weather  for  Scotchmen." 

"  So  many  of  'em  have  come  over  the  border  to 
make  their  fortunes,  'tis  only  fair  some  of  'em  should 
come  over  to  be  hanged.  Well,  he  laughs  best  that 
laughs  last.  To  think  what  a  fright  their  army 
gave  us  last  year,  —  some  of  us,  that  is,  —  not  me. 
Have  you  heard  if  the  Pretender  has  been  caught 
yet?" 

"  Not  I.     Some  think  he'll  never  be  caught,  — 


6 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

that  he's  been  picked  up  by  a  vessel  on  the  Scotch 
coast  and  got  safe  away  for  France." 

"  A  good  riddance,  then,  say  I.  I  don't  begrudge 
him  his  neck,  seeing  there's  no  fear  he'll  ever 
ockipy  the  English  throne.  The  British  Constitu- 
tion is  safe.  Well,  'tis  all  over  with  the  Jacobites; 
no  more  '  Charlie  over  the  Water  ' ;  they'll  have  to 
make  up  their  minds  to  drink  to  King  George  for 
good  and  all.  'Twill  be  a  bitter  pill  to  swallow,  for 
some  I  could  mention." 

"  You  can't  say  that  of  us.  My  master  has  always 
been  Hanoverian." 

"  Ay,  ay,  being  town  bred,  and  a  gentleman  of 
fashion.  'Tis  some  of  our  country  gentry  I'm  think- 
ing of.  Well,  they  are  singing  small  at  present. 
Lucky  for  them  they  didn't  rise  and  join  the  Pre- 
tender when  he  invaded  us  last  year." 

"  There  were  mighty  few  English  in  his  army, 
that's  certain." 

"  Mighty  few.  A  parcel  enlisted  at  Manchester. 
And,  to  be  sure,  there  was  the  garrison  at  Carlisle 
that  declared  for  him.  And  some  had  gone  to  Scot- 
land before  that  to  meet  him,  —  madmen,  I  call 
them.  But  he  had  no  English  of  any  family,  barring 
a  few  that  came  with  him  from  France,  I  hear :  — 
chips  of  the  old  block,  they  were,  dyed-in-the-wool 
Jacobites,  from  the  old  breed,  that  lived  abroad  for 

7 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

their  health,  eh  ?  Well,  'tis  all  over  now  —  all  over 
now." 

Mr.  Betteridge  looked  gratified  as  he  said  it,  but 
there  was  a  suppressed  sigh  beneath  his  content. 
Had  he,  too,  in  his  day,  sometimes  held  his  glass 
over  a  bowl  of  water  in  drinking  the  king's  health  ? 

"  Except  the  hangings  and  beheadings,"  he  added, 
as  an  afterthought. 

Caleb  made  no  reply,  being  busy  with  his  food 
lest  his  master  might  arrive  before  he  had  satisfied 
his  hunger.  The  post-chaise  which  bore  that  gentle- 
man was  now  approaching  the  town  from  the 
South,  under  the  guidance  of  a  despondent-looking 
postilion.  Within  the  chaise,  beside  the  gentleman, 
sat  a  young  lady,  and  on  the  seat  improvised  on  the 
bar  in  front  was  a  lady's  maid.  Between  the  young 
lady  and  the  gentleman,  who  was  middle-aged, 
silence  prevailed.  They  did  not  look  at  each  other; 
and  something  in  the  air  of  both  seemed  to  denote 
a  lack  of  mutual  sympathy. 

When  we  describe  the  gentleman  as  middle-aged, 
we  mean  as  ages  went  in  the  reign  of  George  II., 
for  it  is  a  vulgar  error  to  suppose  that  people  gen- 
erally lived  as  long  in  the  "  good  "  old  days  as  they 
do  now.  Not  to  speak  of  the  wars  and  the  hangman, 
there  were  bad  sanitation  and  medical  ignorance 
to  shorten  the  careers  of  a  vast  number,  and  "  drink 

8 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

and  the  devil  did  for  the  rest."  This  gentleman  in 
the  post-chaise,  then,  was  not  over  forty.  Drink  and 
the  devil  had  made  good  headway  upon  him:  one 
could  see  that  in  his  face,  which  was  otherwise  a 
face  of  good  breeding,  wit,  and  accomplishment; 
a  handsome  face,  lighted  by  keen,  gray  eyes,  but 
marred  by  the  traces  of  riotous  living  and  cynical 
thoughts,  and  by  a  rooted  discontent.  He  was  tall 
and  gracefully  formed.  His  dress  betokened  fallen 
fortunes.  The  worn  velvet  of  his  coat  and  breeches 
was  faded  from  a  deep  colour  resembling  that  of 
the  wine  he  had  too  much  indulged  in.  The  em- 
broidery of  his  satin  waistcoat,  the  lace  of  his  three- 
cornered  hat,  the  buckles  of  his  shoes,  the  handle  of 
his  sword,  and  the  mounting  of  his  pistols,  were  of 
silver,  but  badly  tarnished.  His  white  silk  stockings 
were  mended  in  more  places  than  one;  his  linen, 
however,  was  immaculate.  He  wore  his  own  hair, 
tied  behind  with  a  ribbon. 

The  young  lady  beside  him  was  very  young, 
indeed;  and  very  pretty,  indeed,  having  wide-open 
blue  eyes,  a  delicately  coloured  face,  a  charming 
little  nose,  an  equally  charming  mouth,  and  a  full, 
shapely  chin.  Her  look  was  at  once  sweet-tempered 
and  high-spirited;  for  the  time  being,  it  contained 
something  of  disapproval  and  rebellion.  As  for  this 
young  lady's  clothes,  the  present  historian's  admira- 

9 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

tion  for  handsome  dress  on  women  is  equalled  by 
his  dislike  of  describing  it  —  or  hearing  it  described 
—  in  detail.  Enough  to  say  that  her  gown  of  dark 
crimson,  with  its  high  waist,  seemed  to  belong 
by  nature  to  the  small,  slender,  and  graceful  figure 
it  encased ;  and  was  free  from  the  excess  —  deplored 
by  good  judges  then  as  now  —  so  dear  to  over- 
dressed dowdiness.  She  had,  too,  the  secret  still 
lacked  by  some  of  her  fair  countryfolk,  of  poising 
a  hat  gracefully,  thus  not  to  look  top-heavy;  hers 
was  a  hat  of  darker  shade  than  her  gown,  with  a 
good  sweep  of  brim. 

As  for  the  maid,  on  the  seat  in  front,  she,  too, 
was  rather  a  young  thing,  —  slim  and  tall,  with  a 
wholesome  complexion,  longish  features,  and  the 
artful-artless,  variable-vacuous,  consequential-con- 
ciliating expression  of  her  tribe.  An  honest,  un- 
lettered, shallow,  not  ill-meaning  creature;  cast 
by  circumstance  for  a  super's  part  in  the  drama  of 
life,  never  to  be  anything  more  than  an  accessory. 

But  the  pretty  young  lady,  left  to  her  own 
thoughts,  of  what  was  she  thinking?  Did  her  mind 
cling  regretfully  to  the  life  she  had  just  left?  —  to 
the  small,  well-ordered  home  of  her  widowed  old 
aunt;  the  decorous  society  of  the  staid  cathedral 
town  in  the  South,  with  its  regular  and  deliberate 
gaieties,  its  exceeding  regard  for  "  politeness "  ? 

10 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

Or  did  it  concern  itself  with  the  home  for  which 
she  was  bound,  the  country-house  she  had  not  seen 
since  childhood,  but  which  she  remembered  vaguely 
as  old  and  half-ruinous  then  ?  —  with  what  manner 
of  life  she  was  to  lead  there  in  the  society  of  this 
strange,  profligate-seeming  uncle,  who  manifestly 
did  not  like  her  any  more  than  she  could  find  it  in 
her  heart  to  like  him  ?  Or  did  she  have  some  vague 
intimation  of  great  things  about  to  happen  unex- 
pectedly ?  —  of  matters  of  deep  import  to  -her  future 
life,  destined  to  result  from  the  chance  coming 
together  of  certain  people  at  the  inn  ahead  ? 

Probably  Miss  Georgiana  Foxwell  had  no  such 
thought;  but  'tis  a  fact  that  at  the  very  time  when 
her  post-chaise  was  coming  into  sight  of  the  church- 
tower  of  this  town,  other  conveyances  were  bringing 
other  travellers  to  the  same  town,  to  the  great 
though  unintended  influencing  of  her  destiny.  To 
begin  at  the  top,  for  that  was  an  age  of  arbitrary 
social  distinctions,  a  private  coach,  drawn  by  six 
horses  and  followed  by  a  mounted  servant,  was 
lumbering  along  slowly  from  the  North.  Then  from 
the  East  cantered  two  well-fed  horses,  bearing,  as 
anybody  could  see,  their  owner  and  his  man  servant. 
From  the  North  again,  but  far  behind  and  out  of 
ken  of  the  coach-and-six,  came  three  post-horses 
under  saddle,  one  of  the  riders  being  the  custodian 

11 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

and  guide.  And  lastly,  somewhere  between  the 
private  carriage  and  the  hired  horses,  but  not 
within  sight  of  either,  a  stage-coach  ground  its  way 
over  the  rugged  eighteenth  century  highway.  Of 
all  the  vehicles  and  horses  that  raised  the  dust  on 
English  roads  that  day,  only  these  —  with  the  post- 
chaise —  concern  us. 

The  first  to  arrive  at  the  inn,  where  Caleb  had 
by  this  time  stayed  his  stomach  and  stepped  out  to 
look  things  over  in  the  yard,  were  the  two  well-fed 
horses.  Their  owner,  a  robust,  red-faced,  round- 
headed,  important-looking  country  gentleman  of 
about  five  and  thirty,  slid  off  his  steed  with  agility, 
and,  leaving  the  animals  to  the  care  of  his  man,  was 
met  at  the  entry  door  by  the  landlady. 

"  Welcome,  Squire  Thornby !  —  a  welcome  to 
your  Worship!  I  hope  I  see  your  Worship  very 
well,  sir." 

He  took  her  obsequiousness  as  his  due,  and,  with 
no  more  reciprocation  than  a  complacent  grunt,  he 
bade  her  lay  a  cloth  in  the  Rose  and  let  his  man 
Bartholomew  bring  to  that  room  a  round  of  cold 
beef  and  a  quart  of  her  best  ale.  With  his  snub- 
nosed  crimson  visage,  he  looked  the  part  he  had 
been  born  to  fill  in  life;  and  was  suitably  dressed 
for  it,  too,  in  his  brown  wig,  green  cloth  coat,  brown 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

waistcoat  and  breeches,  large  riding-boots,  and  plain, 
three-cornered  hat. 

"  For  I'm  in  haste  to  get  home," he  added,"  where 
I'll  pay  myself  for  a  cold  dinner  by  a  hot  supper. 
So  bestir,  Mrs.  Betteridge,  and  don't  keep  me  wait- 
ing." 

"  Certainly,  your  Worship,  sir ;  by  all  means, 
Squire  Thornby."  And  she  called  to  a  chamber- 
maid, "  Moll,  lay  a  cloth  for  the  Squire  in  the 
Thistle,  and  be  quick  —  " 

"  I  said  the  Rose,  Mrs.  Betteridge.  Didn't  you 
hear?  Thistle  be  damned !  —  I  never  said  Thistle." 

"The  Rose,  Squire?  The  Thistle  is  far  the 
better  room  —  far  the  better,  your  Worship." 

"  Lea'  me  be  the  judge  o'  that,  woman.  I'll  dine 
in  the  Rose,  and  there's  an  end."  Whereupon  he 
turned  toward  the  stairs. 

"  Your  pardon,  Squire,  —  I  wouldn't  offend  your 
Worship  for  anything,  —  but  the  Rose  is  bespoke 
already  for  dinner-time,  and  truly  indeed  most  o' 
the  quality  that  stops  here  prefers  the  Thistle." 

"  But  I  prefer  the  Rose,  and  the  quality  that 
stop  here  may  be  hanged,  rat  'em." 

"  I'm  terrible  sorry,  your  Worship.  But  all's 
ready  in  the  Rose  for  t'other  party,  sir;  and  the 
gentleman  as  sent  orders  was  most  particular  about 
having  the  Rose  —  though  for  my  part  I  can't  see 

13 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

why  he  should  want  that  room  when  he  might  'a' 
had  the  Thistle,  and  so  I  thought  to  myself  at  the 
time,  sir ;  and  when  I  seed  your  Worship  arrive  just 
now,  thinks  I  to  myself,  how  lucky  it  is  t'other 
gentleman  bespoke  the  Rose,  because  now  there's 
the  Thistle  for  his  Worship.  And  sure  indeed  the 
cloth's  laid  for  t'other  party,  and  their  dinner  a'most 
cooked,  and  we  expect  them  every  minute  — " 

Beaten  down  by  this  torrent  of  speech,  the  Squire 
waved  his  hand  for  silence,  and  said,  with  surly 
resignation :  "  Oh,  well,  then,  the  Thistle.  Who  is 
it  has  bespoke  the  Rose,  drat  'em  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Foxwell,  your  Worship,  a  neighbour  of 
yours,  sir,  if  I  may  say  so." 

The  Squire  gave  a  start,  and  the  cloud  on  his 
brow  deepened.  "  Foxwell !  "  he  echoed.  "  A  neigh- 
bour of  mine !  —  H'm !  Yes,  there  is  a  gentleman  of 
that  name  living  in  my  part  of  the  county."  With  a 
parenthetic  "  More's  the  pity ! "  under  his  breath, 
he  added,  in  a  kind  of  dogged,  grumbling  way, 
"  What  the  deuce  is  he  dining  here  for?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  he's  been  to  the  South  to  fetch  his 
niece  home  to  Foxwell  Court,  and  they're  coming  in 
a  po'shay,  and  stopping  here  for  dinner.  He  sent 
his  man  Caleb  ahead  on  horseback  to  order  it  cooked, 
so  they  shouldn't  be  delayed,  for  they  have  eight 
bad  miles  yet  from  here  to  Foxwell  Court." 

14 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"  Ecod !  "  said  Squire  Thornby,  "  I  have  the  same 
bad  miles  to  Thornby  Hall  —  or  five  o'  them,  at 
least,  —  and  I  ordered  a  cold  dinner  so  /  shouldn't  be 
delayed.  But,  damn  it,  now  I  come  to  think  on't, 
I'll  have  something  cooked,  so  I  will !  I  presume  my 
belly  is  as  much  to  me  as  Mr.  Foxwell's  is  to  him. 
I  don't  see  why  I  should  eat  cold  while  he  eats 
hot.  Have  you  got  anything  on  the  fire,  Mrs. 
Betteridge?  " 

He  strode  into  the  kitchen  to  see  for  himself, 
followed  by  the  landlady. 

"  That  chicken  is  almost  done,"  said  he. 

"  'Tis  what  Mr.  Foxwell  ordered,  your  Worship." 

"  I  might  'a'  known  it !  The  leg  o'  lamb,  too,  I 
suppose.  Everything  for  Foxwell.  Does  the  man 
think  nobody  else  has  a  soul  to  save?  " 

"  The  leg  o'  lamb  isn't  his,  sir.  'Tis  roasting  so 
as  to  be  ready  against  the  stage-coach  arrives." 

"  Then  I'll  have  the  best  cut  o'  that.  First  come, 
first  served :  —  let  the  stage-coach  passengers  take 
what's  left.  A  beggarly  lot,  or  they'd  have  coaches 
o'  their  own  to  ride  in.  And  send  up  a  bottle  o'  the 
best  wine  you've  got  in  the  house.  I'll  dine  as  well 
as  Mr.  Foxwell,  rat  him !  " 

Leaving  Mrs.  Betteridge  to  put  his  orders  into 
execution,  he  went  out  to  the  passage  and  called 


15 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

his  man  Bartholomew,  to  whom  he  communicated 
his  intentions. 

"  Very  good,  your  Worship/'  said  Bartholomew, 
in  the  manner  of  a  servant  somewhat  privileged. 
He  was  a  lean,  hardy  fellow,  of  his  master's  own 
age,  with  a  long,  astute-looking  countenance.  "  I 
see  Mr.  Foxwell's  man  Caleb  in  the  yard,  sir." 

"  Ay,  and  Mr.  Foxwell  himself  will  be  here 
presently.  A  sight  for  sore  eyes,  eh?  If  I'd  'a' 
known  he  was  coming  here,  I'd  'a'  stopped  at  the 
Crown.  No,  damme  if  I  would,  neither!  I  won't 
be  kept  from  going  where  I  choose  by  any  man, 
least  of  all  a  man  I  don't  like.  What's  Foxwell  to 
me?" 

"  It's  small  blame  to  you  for  not  liking  him,  sir, 
if  you'll  pardon  my  saying  it,  after  the  way  he 
acted  about  his  gamekeeper  trespassing." 

"  A  damned  set  of  poachers  he  keeps  on  that 
place  of  his.  'Tis  a  pity  for  the  county  he  ever 
came  into  it.  The  neighbourhood  did  well  enough 
without  him,  I'm  sure,  all  the  years  he  was  playing 
the  rake  in  London  and  foreign  parts." 

"  It  makes  me  sick,  if  I  may  say  so,"  replied  the 
faithful  servant,  "  the  way  I  hear  some  folks  sing 
his  praises  for  a  fine  gentleman :  —  it  does,  indeed." 

"  There  are  some  folks  who  are  asses,  Bartholo- 
mew," said  the  Squire,  warmly.  "  Sing  his  praises 

16 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

for  a  fine  jackanapes!  Fine  gentleman,  d'ye  say? 
How  can  anybody  be  a  fine  gentleman  on  a  beggarly 
three  hundred  a  year  ?  Why,  don't  you  know,  don't 
all  the  county  know,  'twas  his  poverty  drove  him 
down  here  to  his  estate  to  be  a  plague  among  us? 
Ecod,  who  are  the  rest  of  us,  I  wonder,  solid  country 
gentlemen  of  position  in  the  county,  to  be  come  over 
by  this  town  bred  fop  with  his  Frenchified  ways? 
Give  me  a  plain,  home-bred  Englishman,  and  hang 
all  these  conceited  pups  that  come  among  us  trying 
to  put  us  down  in  talk  with  their  London  wit  and 
foreign  manners ! " 

The  extraordinary  heat  manifested  by  the  Squire 
during  this  oration  was  a  warning  to  his  man  to 
desist  from  the  subject,  lest  he  might  himself  become 
the  victim  of  the  wrath  it  engendered.  Moreover, 
the  outdoor  passage  of  an  inn  was  a  rather  public 
place  for  such  exhibitions,  though  fortunately  there 
was  at  the  time  no  audience. 

"Will  you  wait  for  dinner  in  your  room,  sir?" 
suggested  Bartholomew,  after  a  moment's  cooling 
pause. 

"  No,  I  won't.  Tom  Thornby  won't  beat  a 
retreat,  neither,  for  any  man !  I'll  stay  till  he  comes, 
now  that  I'm  here,  and  if  he  tries  any  of  his  London 
airs  on  me,  I'll  give  him  as  good  as  he  sends." 

Bartholomew  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the 
17 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

obstinacy  of  this  vain,  grown-up  child,  his  master, 
to  oppose;  and  almost  at  that  moment  a  post-chaise 
turned  in  from  the  street,  requiring  both  Thornby 
and  the  man  servant  to  stand  close  to  the  wall  for 
safety. 


18 


CHAPTER   II. 

FRIENDS 

THE  landlady  came  bouncing  out,  followed  by 
her  husband  at  a  more  dignified  gait,  to  receive  the 
newcomers.  Indifferent  to  their  salutations,  Mr. 
Foxwell  stepped  quickly  from  the  chaise  and  offered 
his  hand  to  his  niece,  who  scarcely  more  than 
touched  it  in  alighting.  Caleb  meanwhile  ran  up  to 
assist  the  maid,  but  was  forestalled  by  Mr.  Better- 
idge,  who  performed  the  office  with  a  stately 
gallantry  quite  flustering  to  the  young  woman, 
causing  her  to  blush,  and  her  legs,  stiff  with  the  con- 
straint of  the  journey,  to  stumble.  Miss  Foxwell 
and  the  maid  followed  the  landlady  immediately  to 
the  entry  and  up  the  stairs ;  but  Mr.  Foxwell,  as  he 
saw  Squire  Thornby  gazing  at  him  in  sullen  defiance, 
stopped  to  greet  that  gentleman  in  the  suavest  pos- 
sible manner. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Thornby,  you  here?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  Squire,  in  the  shortest  of 
19 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

tones,  and  as  if  determined  to  show  himself  proof 
against  the  other's  urbanity ;  "  attending  to  my 
own  business." 

"  An  unusual  circumstance,  I  suppose,"  said  Fox- 
well,  pleasantly,  "  as  you  think  it  worth  mention- 
ing. A  dull  sort  of  day." 

"  I  dare  say,"  was  Thornby's  savage  reply. 

Not  the  least  altering  his  amiable  tone  or  half- 
smiling  countenance,  Foxwell  continued :  "  Smooth 
roads  —  that  is  to  say,  for  these  remote  parts." 

"  Sir,"  said  Thornby,  fiercely,  conceiving  himself 
and  his  county  alike  disparaged,  "  I  find  these  parts 
quite  good  enough  for  me." 

"  Indeed,  I  envy  you,"  said  Foxwell,  with  a  slight 
plaintiveness.  "  I  wish  from  my  heart  I  could  say 
I  find  them  good  enough  for  me  —  since  I  am 
doomed  to  live  in  them." 

That  anything  good  enough  for  Thomas  Thornby 
could  not  be  good  enough  for  another  man  was  not 
a  proposition  soothing  to  Thomas  Thornby's  soul. 
Having  no  fit  retort  within  present  grasp  of  his 
tongue,  however,  and  knowing  that  even  if  he  had 
one,  his  adversary  would  find  a  better  one  to  cap 
it  with,  the  Squire  contented  himself  with  a  fiery 
glare  and  an  inward  curse.  Then  saying  abruptly 
to  his  servant,  "  See  that  my  dinner  is  served  the 
moment  it's  ready,  Bartholomew,"  he  entered  the 

20 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

inn  and  tramped  up  the  stairs  with  great  weight  of 
heel. 

Foxwell  laughed  scarce  audibly,  and  followed 
with  a  step  as  light  as  the  other's  was  heavy. 
Emerging  from  the  stair-head  to  a  passage  that 
divided  the  rear  from  the  front  rooms,  he  went 
into  one  of  the  latter,  where  he  found  the  table 
set,  and  his  niece  and  her  maid  at  the  window,  look- 
ing down  at  the  street.  Across  the  way  were  a 
baker's  shop,  a  draper's,  a  rival  inn  with  gables  and 
a  front  of  timber  and  plaster;  and  so  forth.  A 
butcher's  boy  with  a  tray  of  meat,  a  townswoman 
with  a  child  by  the  hand,  and  two  dogs  tumbling 
over  each  other,  were  the  moving  figures  in  the 
scene  —  until  a  clatter  of  horses  and  a  rumble  of 
wheels  were  heard,  and  then  the  maid  exclaimed : 

"  Lor,  mistress,  what  a  handsome  coach,  to  be 
sure!  And  see  the  man  servant  on  the  horse  be- 
hind. People  of  great  fashion,  I'll  warrant.  And 
they're  coming  to  this  very  inn !  " 

Miss  Foxwell  watched  listlessly  till  the  vehicle  — 
the  private  coach  already  mentioned  as  approach- 
ing the  town  from  the  North  —  had  disappeared 
beneath  the  window  from  which  she  looked. 

Foxwell  had  been  standing  at  the  empty  fireplace, 
heedless  of  what  might  be  seen  in  the  street.  He 
now  spoke,  carelessly : 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"  You  saw  the  amiable  gentleman  who  stood  be- 
low, Georgiana,  and  who  passed  this  door  with  so 
fairy-like  a  tread  as  I  came  up?  " 

"  I  didn't  observe  him,"  replied  Georgiana. 
"  Somebody  passed  very  noisily." 

"  The  same.  I  thought  you  might  remember  him 
from  the  days  before  you  left  home.  But,  to  be 
sure,  you  were  a  child  then,  and  he,  too,  was 
younger.  He  is  one  of  our  neighbours,  Squire 
Thornby." 

"  I  remember  the  name,  but  I  don't  think  I  ever 
knew  the  gentleman." 

"  If  you  never  did,  you  lost  little ;  and  you'll 
count  it  no  great  privilege  when  you  do  know  him, 
—  unless  you  have  a  tenderness  for  rustical  boobies." 

Georgiana  making  no  answer,  the  maid  said  to 
her  in  a  lowered  voice,  "  Lor,  m'lady,  your  uncle 
had  needs  know  you  better.  /  saw  the  gentleman, 
and  a  ojus-looking  man  servant  he  had  with  him. 
I  never  could  abide  such  bumpkin  fellows."  The 
waiting-woman  came  from  the  town  in  which  her 
mistress  had  received  her  education;  she  had  been 
promoted  to  her  present  post  from  that  of  housemaid 
to  Miss  Foxwell's  aunt,  and  naturally  she  brought 
superior  notions  with  her  to  the  North. 

Foxwell,  wondering  why  the  dinner  had  not 
arrived,  went  impatiently  to  the  door.  Steps  were 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

heard  ascending  the  stairs,  accompanied  by  the 
voices  of  women. 

"  The  party  from  the  private  coach,  being  shown 
to  a  room,"  whispered  the  maid  to  her  mistress. 

At  that  moment  Foxwell,  in  the  doorway,  called 
out  in  pleased  surprise,  "  Why,  as  I  live  —  certainly 
it  is!  Lady  Strange,  upon  my  soul!  —  and  Mrs. 
Winter !  and  Rashleigh !  —  George  Rashleigh,  or 
I'm  a  saint !  " 

He  seized  the  hand  of  her  whom  he  called  Lady 
Strange,  and  kissed  it  with  a  gallant  fervour; 
treated  the  other  lady  in  like  manner,  and  then 
threw  his  arms  around  the  gentleman  who  was  third 
and  last  of  the  newcomers  (not  counting  two  ser- 
vants) in  an  embrace  such  as  was  the  fashion  at 
the  time. 

"  Why,  upon  my  honour,  'tis  Bob  Foxwell,"  said 
Lady  Strange. 

She  was  a  fair  woman  in  the  thirties,  of  the 
opulent  style  of  beauty,  being  of  good  height,  and 
having  a  fine  head,  and  a  soft  expression  wherein 
good  nature  mingled  with  worldly  nonchalance. 
She  was  dressed  as  a  fashionable  person  of  the 
town  would  dress  for  travelling,  and  her  presence 
brought  to  the  north  country  inn  something  of  the 
atmosphere  of  St.  James's.  As  far  as  attire  and 
manner  went,  this  was  true  of  her  companions  also. 

23 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

The  gentleman,  whom  Foxwell  had  saluted  as  Rash- 
leigh,  was  a  good-looking  man  of  medium  age  and 
size,  retaining  in  face  and  carriage  the  air  of  youth ; 
he  was  the  elegant  town  gentleman,  free  from  Fox- 
well's  discontent,  easy-going  and  affable  without 
apparently  caring  much  for  anything  in  the  world. 
The  second  lady,  Mrs.  Winter,  formed  a  contrast  to 
Lady  Strange :  she  was  slight,  though  not  angular ; 
her  eyes  were  gray,  and  her  complexion  clear,  yet 
the  impression  she  left  was  that  of  a  dark  beauty; 
and  she  had  a  cold  incisiveness  of  glance. 

"  And  your  devoted  slave  as  ever,  Lady  Strange," 
said  Foxwell,  kissing  that  lady's  hand  again.  "  But 
in  heaven's  name,  what  are  you  doing  in  this  part 
of  the  world?  Come  in,  that  I  may  see  you  better. 
Come,  I  am  dining  in  this  room," 

They  entered  the  chamber,  regardless  of  the  land- 
lady's eagerness  to  show  them  to  a  room  for  their 
own  use.  Mrs.  Betteridge  would  thereupon  have 
ushered  their  man  servant  and  lady's  maid  to  the 
room  she  had  chosen,  but  these  menials  refused  to 
proceed  without  orders,  and  so  remained  outside 
Foxwell's  door,  laden  with  small  impedimenta  of 
various  sizes  and  uses,  from  pistols  to  scent-bottles. 

"  One  never  knows  who  may  turn  up,"  said  Rash- 
leigh.  "  I  was  thinking  of  you  only  yesterday,  Bob, 
and  wondering  if  I  should  ever  see  you  again." 

Si 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  And  what  ill  wind  for  you"  asked  Foxwell, 
"  blows  this  good  to  me?  —  for  an  ill  wind  it  must 
be  to  any  civilized  person  that  blows  him  to  these 
wilds." 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be  escorting  these  ladies 
back  to  London  from  Lady  Strange's  country-seat 
by  the  Tweed,  where  they  have  been  for  the  recovery 
of  their  health." 

"  And  our  good  looks,  —  tell  the  truth,  Cousin 
Rashleigh,"  said  Lady  Strange.  "  My  dear  Fox- 
well,  we  have  rusticated  till  we  are  near  dead  of 
dulness,  —  is  it  not  so,  Isabella?" 

"  Dead  and  buried,  Diana,"  said  Mrs.  Winter, 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "  And  to  think  you  are 
still  alive,  Foxwell?  'Tis  so  long  since  you  dis- 
appeared from  the  town,  I  swear  I  had  forgot  you." 

"Cruel  Mrs.  Winter!"  replied  Foxwell.  "But 
'tis  not  for  you  to  speak  of  being  dead  and  buried. 
You  know  not  what  rustication  is.  You  have  passed, 
I  suppose,  a  month  or  so  out  of  the  world,  and 
are  now  going  back  to  it;  while  I  have  been  a 
recluse  in  this  county  these  two  years,  and  may 
be  so  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  The  town,  as  you 
say,  has  forgot  me,  and  God  knows  whether  I  shall 
ever  return.  See  what  poverty  brings  one  to,  and 
take  warning." 

The  reader  is  doubtless  aware  that  country-house 
25 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

life  did  not  occupy  in  the  eighteenth  century  the 
place  it  does  to-day  in  the  routine  of  the  "  smart " 
world.  People  of  fashion  had  their  town  houses 
and  their  country-seats  then,  of  course;  but  many 
such  were  wont  to  pursue  more  exclusively  the  one 
life  or  the  other,  —  to  be  town  mice  who  sometimes 
went  to  the  country,  or  country  mice  who  sometimes 
came  up  to  town.  Those  who  preferred  the  gaiety 
of  the  town  were  more  prone  to  count  that  time 
lost  which  they  had  to  pass  out  of  it,  and  to  look 
down  upon  those  who  spent  most  of  their  days  in 
the  country.  When  the  town  mice  left  London  by 
choice,  it  was  to  take  the  waters  at  Bath,  or  to  make 
the  "  grand  tour "  of  the  Continent.  Week-end 
house-parties  had  not  come  in,  there  were  no  seaside 
resorts,  and  the  rich  did  not  hie  themselves  in  August 
to  the  moors  of  Scotland.  "  Beyond  Hyde  Park 
all  is  desert,"  said  the  fop  in  the  play;  and  Robert 
Foxwell  and  his  friends  were  so  far  of  Sir  Fop- 
ling's  mind ;  they  valued  wit,  and  used  "  fox- 
hunter  "  as  a  name  of  scorn.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  Foxwell  declared  himself  miserable  in  his 
exile. 

"  'Tis  for  your  sins,  Bob,"  said  Lady  Strange. 
"  You  were  a  monstrously  wicked  man  in  London, 
as  I  remember." 

Mrs.  Betteridge  now  contrived  to  insinuate  herself 
26 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

into  the  notice  of  Rashleigh,  addressing  him  as 
"  my  lord,"  and  begging  to  know  the  wishes  of 
himself  and  their  ladyships  upon  the  matter  of 
dinner  and  rooms. 

He  turned  to  Lady  Strange.  "  What  say  you, 
Cousin  Di?  I  suppose  we  shall  be  driving  on  as 
soon  as  we  have  dined  —  " 

"  You  shall  dine  with  me,"  broke  in  Foxwell. 
"  I'll  not  lose  sight  of  your  faces.  I  don't  meet  a 
civilized  being  once  in  an  age.  —  You  will  set  more 
places,  landlady :  my  friends  will  dine  here."  With- 
out waiting  for  their  assent,  he  motioned  the  land- 
lady out  to  the  passage,  and  there  gave  further 
orders. 

The  attention  of  the  three  Londoners  now  fell 
upon  the  two  figures  at  the  window.  Miss  Foxwell, 
quite  ignored  by  her  uncle  since  the  arrival  of  his 
friends,  had  remained  where  she  was,  regarding 
the  newcomers  with  a  side  glance  in  which  there  was 
no  great  joy  at  their  advent.  Now  that  she  saw 
their  looks  directed  to  her,  she  turned  her  face 
again  toward  the  street,  with  a  slight  blush  at  the 
scrutiny. 

"  What  a  pretty  girl  it  is  at  the  window,"  whis- 
pered Lady  Strange  to  her  companions. 

"  And  what  is  she  doing  here  with  Foxwell  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Winter,  eying  the  young  lady  critically. 

27 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  The  dog !  —  he  is  to  be  envied,"  said  Rash- 
leigh. 

Resentfully  conscious  of  the  cool  gaze  upon  her, 
Miss  Foxwell  whispered  to  her  maid,  "  How  rudely 
those  people  stare  at  us !  " 

"  They  must  be  very  great  quality,"  replied  the 
maid,  reverentially.  "  Their  waiting-gentleman 
looks  the  height  of  fashion,  —  but  their  woman 
isn't  no  great  sights."  Miss  Foxwell's  maid  had 
been  quick  to  inspect  the  attendants  of  the  travellers, 
and  the  lackey  had  already  put  himself  on  ogling 
terms  with  her,  a  proceeding  which  the  other  maid 
regarded  superciliously. 

As  soon  as  Foxwell  returned  to  his  friends,  Rash- 
leigh  called  him  to  account  in  an  undertone :  "I 
say,  Foxwell,  if  this  county  produces  such  flowers 
as  that  at  the  window,  'tis  not  so  barren  a  wilder- 
ness." 

"That?"  said  Foxwell,  carelessly.  "Oh,  that's 
my  niece,  Miss  Foxwell.  Come  here,  Georgiana." 

She  obeyed  without  haste,  and  was  introduced. 
She  was  not  in  the  mood  to  affect  for  civility's  sake 
a  cordiality  she  did  not  feel,  nor  was  she  conciliated 
by  the  easy  graciousness  of  Lady  Strange,  the  sharp, 
momentary  smile  of  Mrs.  Winter,  or  the  unre- 
strained admiration  of  Mr.  Rashleigh. 

"  You  are  a  sweet  child,"  said  Lady  Strange, 
28 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

speaking  in  a  sweet  tone  herself,  "  to  have  such  a 
naughty  uncle." 

"  I  dare  say  my  uncle  is  not  much  worse  than 
other  people,"  said  Georgiana,  coolly,  with  the 
intention,  not  of  defending  her  relation,  but  of 
being  pert. 

"  She  means  you,  Cousin  Rashleigh,"  said  Lady 
Strange,  smiling  gaily.  "  She  sees  your  character  in 
your  face.  —  But,  my  dear,  you  can't  have  known 
much  of  your  uncle  in  London.  I'll  tell  you  some 
tales !  " 

Instead  of  carrying  out  her  threat  immediately, 
however,  the  lady  turned  her  attention  to  her  maid, 
bidding  her  put  down  her  burdens  and  go  and  dine 
in  the  kitchen. 

The  man  servant  and  Georgiana's  attendant  being 
dismissed  for  a  like  purpose,  Foxwell  and  Rash- 
leigh, to  give  the  ladies  that  brief  privacy  from 
masculine  eyes  which  a  toilet-marring  journey  makes 
welcome,  went  down-stairs  and  paced  the  yard  till 
dinner  was  ready. 

"  So  this  is  the  place  of  your  retreat,  Bob,"  said 
Rashleigh ;  "  or  hereabouts,  I  mean." 

"  An  old  house  and  some  beggarly  acres  eight 
miles  from  here.  'Tis  my  last  ditch.  Perhaps  I 
was  lucky  in  having  that  to  fall  back  into.  Fortune 
was  set  upon  driving  me  from  the  field  in  London." 

29 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  But  you  might  still  have  contrived  to  live  there 
one  way  or  another.  Men  do,  who  have  lost  their 
all." 

"  By  playing  the  parasite  ?  —  begging  of  people 
whom  I  scorn  ?  —  laughing  at  great  men's  stupid 
jests,  or  enslaving  myself  to  great  ladies'  caprices? 
Not  I.  Neither  could  I  play  the  common  rook  where 
I  had  once  lived  the  gentleman.  Nor  had  I  any 
fancy  for  the  debtors'  prison.  I  might  have  turned 
highwayman,  but  I  am  too  old  and  indolent,  and 
the  risk  is  too  great.  No;  for  a  gentleman  who 
had  made  the  figure  I  had,  and  who  could  no  more 
keep  up  that  figure,  —  curse  the  cards  and  the  tables, 
the  mercenary  women  and  the  swindling  tradesmen ! 
—  there  was  nothing  but  self-banishment  to  the 
ancestral  fields." 

"  "Tis  a  wonder  you've  kept  them.  I  should  have 
thought,  from  your  habits  of  old,  you'd  have  con- 
verted the  last  inch  into  the  ready  by  this  time." 

"  They  are  beyond  my  power  to  convert.  The 
estate  is  mine  only  in  part.  I  share  the  possession 
with  that  young  person  you  saw  up-stairs." 

"  The  pretty  niece  ?  " 

Foxwell  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  She  may  be 
pretty  —  I  really  haven't  concerned  myself  enough 
to  study  her  looks.  I  shall  doubtless  find  her  an 
intolerable  drag  upon  me.  Notwithstanding  our 

30 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

relationship,  we  are  new  acquaintances.  She  is 
my  brother's  orphan  —  the  only  child.  She  was 
born  at  Foxwell  Court,  the  place  of  my  retirement, 
and  she  spent  her  childhood  there.  Both  her  parents 
died  when  she  was  very  young ;  my  father  survived 
them  a  year,  and  upon  his  death  she  was  sent  to  be 
reared  by  her  mother's  elder  sister.  During  all  this 
time,  —  from  before  my  brother's  marriage  till  after 
this  girl  left  Foxwell  Court,  —  I  never  came  near 
the  place.  Most  of  the  time,  indeed,  I  was  abroad, 
but  even  when  in  England  I  preferred  the  South,  — 
and  my  father  perhaps  was  not  sorry  for  that,  for, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  never  agreed  with  him  and 
my  brother,  and,  as  the  old  gentleman  loved  his 
peace,  he  could  spare  my  presence.  After  his  death 
and  the  departure  of  the  girl,  Foxwell  Court  was 
shut  up  for  a  long  while,  —  that  is  to  say,  till  I 
sought  refuge  there  two  years  ago.  My  father  left 
the  place  to  me  and  my  niece,  on  such  terms  that  it 
cannot  be  divided  till  she  marries,  nor  my  share 
sold  during  my  lifetime." 

"  You  speak  of  it  as  a  few  beggarly  acres.  Had 
he  nothing  else  to  leave  ?  " 

"  Not  a  farthing.  Ours  was  a  family  of  decayed 
fortune.  You  are  wondering  how  in  that  case  I 
contrived  to  make  the  appearance  I  did  in  town 
and  on  the  Continent.  By  the  bounty  of  my  Uncle 

31 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

Richard  —  you  remember  him,  of  course:  the 
attorney  who  made  a  fortune  in  speculation.  He 
looked  upon  life  much  as  I  did,  and  not  with  the 
puritanical  eyes  of  my  father  and  brother;  so  he 
provided  for  me  while  he  lived,  and  left  me  half 
his  shares  when  he  died,  —  to  prove,  I  make  no 
doubt,  that  virtue  does  not  always  pay  best.  When 
I  had  melted  his  shares  into  pleasure,  I  resorted,  as 
you  know,  to  the  cards,  and  the  tables  in  Covent 
Gardens,  thinking  they  might  repay  in  my  necessity 
what  I  had  lost  by  them  in  my  prosperity.  'Twas 
a  fool's  hope !  For  a  roof  to  cover  my  head,  I  came 
home  to  Foxwell  Court.  I  have  at  least  enjoyed 
liberty  there.  But  now  that  this  niece  has  finished 
her  education,  and  comes  home  in  accordance  with 
my  father's  plans,  responsibility  begins.  I  was 
never  made  to  play  the  guardian,  George.  The 
affectionate,  solicitous,  didactic  uncle  is  no  part 
for  me.  And  especially  to  a  minx  who  has  been 
taught  to  look  upon  the  frivolities  of  the  gay  world 
with  virtuous  horror.  We  have  known  each  other 
but  four  days,  and  we  hate  each  other  already.  She 
hadn't  been  in  my  society  an  hour  till  I  perceived 
righteous  disapproval  written  upon  her  face." 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  mistake  the  girl  altogether. 
From  the  glimpse  I  had  of  her,  brief  as  it  was,  I 
could  swear  she  is  no  prude.  There  is,  indeed,  ? 

82 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

delicacy  and  sensibility  in  her  face,  but  nothing  the 
least  sanctimonious.  She  seems  to  me  a  young  lady 
of  spirit,  a  little  annoyed  about  something.  No 
doubt  you  expected  to  find  such  a  girl  as  you  de- 
scribe, and  you  behaved  accordingly :  she  was  quick 
to  take  offence,  and  now  you  mistake  her  natural 
resentment  for  self-righteous  rebuke." 

"  I  know  not  what  my  expectations  had  to  do 
with  the  matter,  but  I  can  see  plainly  enough  her 
dislike.  And,  damme,  George,  can  you  imagine 
what  a  restraint  upon  my  conduct  the  presence  of 
a  young  unmarried  female  will  be?  " 

"  Then  you  have  only  to  get  her  married  off  your 
hands  as  soon  as  may  be,"  said  Rashleigh. 

"  Her  marriage  means  the  division  of  our  estate, 
and  my  share  then  will  not  suffice  to  feed  a  horse 
upon.  But  I  won't  balk  at  that,  for  the  sake  of 
freedom,  if  you'll  find  me  a  man  willing  to  take  her 
With  the  little  she'll  have." 

"  I  grant,  gentlemen  of  any  fashion  want  a  good 
settlement  with  their  wives,  in  this  age.  But  con- 
sider her  beauty :  —  that  is  an  item  on  account  of 
which  I,  for  one,  would  vastly  abate  my  demands  — 
if  I  were  fool  enough  to  marry  at  all." 

"  She  wouldn't  have  you,  fool  or  no  fool.  I  can 
see  she  will  be  as  fastidious  when  it  comes  to  mating 
as  if  she  had  ten  thousand  a  year.  I  fear  this  region 

33 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

will  not  furnish  a  man  to  her  liking  —  I  can  com- 
mend her  good  taste  in  that.  So  heaven  knows 
when  I  may  be  rid  of  her!  But  enough  of  the 
chit:  I'm  saddled  with  her,  and  there's  an  end. 
You  must  do  something  for  me,  George,  —  you  and 
Lady  Strange  and  her  friend." 

"  Speaking  for  myself,  I'm  entirely  at  your 
service." 

"  You  must  make  me  a  visit  at  Foxwell  Court,  — 
now.  Yes,  you  must.  Your  time  is  your  own,  I 
am  sure.  It  matters  not  whether  you  arrive  in 
town  this  month  or  the  next.  While  I  have  you, 
I  will  hold  you.  When  we  have  dined,  you  will 
drive  on  with  me,  not  to  London,  but  to  Foxwell 
Court.  You'll  give  me  a  week  —  nay,  a  fort- 
night, at  least  —  of  civilized  company,  for  human- 
ity's sake." 

"  Why,"  said  Rashleigh,  "  'tis  rather  a  change  of 
plan  —  though  I  see  nothing  against  it,  for  my 
part  If  the  ladies  are  willing  —  " 

"  They  must  be  willing,"  cried  Foxwell.  "  You 
must  persuade  them :  —  if  naught  else  will  do,  you 
must  be  taken  ill  and  be  unable  to  go  on  to  London. 
Egad,  I'll  poison  you  all  with  the  bad  wine  they 
keep  here,  ere  I  let  you  escape  me !  " 

"  Nay,  let  me  try  persuasion  first.  I  can  com- 
mend you  to  them  as  a  host  —  I  know  of  old  that 

34 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

you'll  stop  at  nothing  that  has  promise  of  amusement 
in  it." 

"  I'll  stop  at  nothing  to  amuse  them  as  my  guests 

—  you  may  warrant  that.     As  for  my  house,  you 
will  not  find  it  entirely  uninhabitable.     Some  of  the 
company  I  have  kept  there  of  late,  though  it  would 
amuse  you  well  enough,  would  scarce  be  acceptable 
to  my  Lady  Strange;    but  fortunately,  in  view  of 
my  niece's  home-coming,  I  have  issued  strict  decrees 
of  banishment,  —  so  we  shall  find  no  rustic  rake- 
hells,  drinking  parsons,  or  roaring  trollops  on  the 
premises.    'Tis  in  such  company  I  have  found  solace 
in  my  exile  —  and  I'll  do  them  the  justice  to  say, 
they  are  better  lovers  of  wit  and  real  mirth  than 
the  booby  fox-chasing,  dog-mongering,  horse-talk- 
ing,   punch-guzzling   gentry   and   their   simpering, 
formal  womankind." 

"  You  are  beginning  to  practise  self-denial,  Bob, 

—  driving  your  boon  companions  away,"  said  Rash- 
leigh,  smiling. 

"  As  a  gentleman  I  could  not  do  otherwise,  of 
course.  Since  Miss  must  needs  come,  they  must 
go.  I  must  learn  to  seek  my  amusements,  such  as 
they  are,  out  of  the  house.  But  I  sha'n't  think  of 
that,  or  of  anything  to  come,  while  you  and  these 
ladies  are  with  me.  You  see  I  have  set  my  heart  on 
having  you." 

35 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

They  continued  in  this  strain,  walking  to  and  fro 
between  the  street  end  of  the  passage  and  the  rear 
of  the  inn  yard,  in  which  different  vehicles  were 
standing  idle,  until  Caleb  appeared  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  dinner  for  the  whole  party  was 
ready.  Ascending,  they  found  the  ladies  on  terms 
of  cool  politeness  as  between  Georgiana  and  the 
other  two.  During  the  course  of  the  meal,  it  could 
be  seen  that  Mrs.  Winter  had  incurred  the  greater 
part  of  that  disfavour  which  the  girl  evidently  dis- 
dained to  conceal.  Good  cause  for  this  could  be 
found,  not  only  in  the  steeliness  of  nature  suggested 
by  the  London  lady's  voice  and  look,  but  by  the 
great  freedom  of  topic  and  remark  she  allowed 
herself.  Time  and  again  was  a  hot  blush  called 
to  Georgiana's  cheek,  and  she  was  fain  to  fix  her 
eyes  upon  her  plate  in  indignation  at  the  disregard  of 
her  modesty.  That  was  an  age  when  many  young 
ladies  were  accustomed  to  liberties  of  speech  from 
their  elders  in  their  presence  —  liberties  nowadays 
incredible.  How  they  contrived  to  ignore  them 
while  they  were  necessarily  conscious  of  them,  as  it 
is  certain  they  did,  calls  for  admiration.  Nothing 
that  we  know  of  that  most  delightful  of  young 
women,  Sophia  Western,  makes  us  esteem  and  love 
her  more  than  the  way  in  which  she  endured  the 
coarse  talk  of  her  father,  never  receiving  from  it 

36 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  slightest  taint  herself,  never  seeming  to  notice 
the  outrageous  portions  of  it.  But  it  was  from 
men  only,  or  chiefly,  that  tender  ears  were  used  to 
hearing  conversation  so  free.  Had  she  been  sub- 
jected to  it  by  one  of  her  own  sex,  even  Sophia 
Western  would  have  made  the  protest  of  a  blush. 
Not  that  Mrs.  Winter's  anecdotes  and  observations 
were  of  the  crude  plainness  of  Squire  Western's 
language.  The  lady's  tongue  was  a  rapier,  not  a 
bludgeon,  and  there  would  have  been  little  if  any- 
thing to  reprove  in  the  use  she  made  of  it  on  the 
present  occasion,  had  Georgiana  been  absent  or  ten 
years  older.  As  it  was,  besides  the  offence  to  her 
modesty  itself,  Georgiana  felt  that  she  was  being 
treated  with  intentional  lack  of  consideration.  She 
thought  the  lady  guilty  of  spite  as  well  as  license: 
she  noted,  too,  and  placed  to  her  account  against 
him,  the  lack  of  any  protest  on  her  uncle's  part  on 
behalf  of  her  innocence.  He  laughed  and  was 
merry,  in  his  easy,  fine-gentlemanly  way;  and  the 
young  lady,  in  her  sense  of  careless  outrage,  could 
scarce  restrain  the  tears  of  injury,  loneliness,  and 
revolt. 

It  was  not  till  the  dinner  was  nearly  over,  and  a 
comfortable  disinclination  to  resume  their  travels 
had  been  created  in  his  friends,  that  Foxwell  put 
his  invitation  before  the  ladies.  At  first  they  de- 

37 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

clared  such  a  visit  impossible,  but  as  they  could 
mention  no  respect  wherein  the  impossibility  lay, 
and  as  Foxwell  knew  how  to  mingle  flattery  with  ap- 
peals to  their  compassion,  they  soon  yielded. 

Poor  Georgiana!  It  may  be  imagined  how  far 
she  shared  the  joy  of  her  uncle  at  the  prospect  of 
playing  hostess  to  these  people,  though,  as  he  had 
called  upon  her  openly  to  second  his  invitation,  she 
had  perfunctorily  done  so.  This  matter  settled, 
the  rest  of  the  company  became  merrier,  and  Geor- 
giana more  miserable,  than  ever. 

Meanwhile,  though  she  knew  it  not,  nor  could 
have  dreamt  how  deeply  it  would  affect  her  life,  the 
stage-coach  had  arrived  and  left  a  passenger;  and 
the  two  horsemen  from  the  North,  guided  by  the 
postboy,  were  even  now  riding  into  the  passage 
beneath  the  room  in  which  she  sat. 


38 


CHAPTER   III. 

KNAVES 

SQUIRE  THORNBY,  in  the  next  room,  had  finished 
his  dinner  before  the  Foxwell  party  had  well  begun 
theirs.  In  the  state  of  his  temper  he  had  attacked 
the  roast  lamb  with  a  fierceness  that  made  his  usual 
voracity  seem  delicate  in  comparison.  But,  indeed, 
a  good  appetite  had  something  to  do  with  his  gas- 
tronomic energy,  for  he  had  ridden  that  morning 
from  his  own  house  through  this  town  to  an  estate 
some  miles  eastward,  to  look  at  some  hounds  that 
were  to  be  offered  for  sale,  and  it  was  on  his  return 
that  he  had  stopped  at  the  inn.  During  his  meal 
he  sometimes  gave  his  feelings  vent  in  speech  to  the 
sympathizing  Bartholomew,  who  remained  for  part 
of  the  time  in  attendance. 

"  If  I  ever  catch  that  there  gamekeeper  of  his 
alone  without  a  gun,"  said  Bartholomew,  "  you 
shall  have  your  revenge  on  that  score,  sir,  —  if  I 
may  be  so  bold  as  to  say  as  much." 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Oh,  rat  his  gamekeeper!  "  cried  Thornby,  petu- 
lantly. "  You  harp  and  harp  on  the  gamekeeper !  — 
the  rascal  cut  you  out  with  a  girl,  didn't  he  ?  When 
it  comes  to  that,  what  the  devil  do  I  mind  as  to  the 
poaching  business  and  such  like?  Neighbourly 
quarrels  will  arise,  upon  trespass  and  boundaries  and 
so  forth.  No,  'tis  none  o'  that,  for  all  the  trouble 
he's  put  me  to.  I'll  tell  the  truth,  Bartholomew, 
'tis  the  smooth  way  he  has  of  taking  me  down  when- 
ever we  meet,  —  waving  me  back  to  second  place, 
like,  —  coming  over  me  with  his  damned  fine  airs 
and  glib  speeches.  That's  what  rubs  me  the  wrong 
way.  /  was  the  fine  gentleman  in  our  neighbourhood 
till  he  came;  and  now  —  well,  ecod,  we  shall  see,  we 
shall  see ! " 

This,  indeed,  was  the  true  secret  of  the  squire's 
animosity,  as  it  is  of  many  a  bitter  hatred.  It  is 
easier  for  some  men  to  forget  a  material  injury  to 
their  rights  or  interests  than  a  sentimental  hurt  to 
their  vanity,  and  when  they  have  to  expect  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  latter  in  some  new  form  at  every  future 
encounter,  they  must  be  greater  philosophers  than 
Squire  Thornby  if  they  do  not  rage.  Indeed,  had 
Foxwtell's  offence  not  been  partly  wilful,  his  superi- 
ority in  mind  and  manner  would  alone  have  drawn 
the  Squire's  hate.  Thornby's  envy  was  not  of  the 
admiring  sort  that  would  emulate  the  merits  of 

40 


its  object :  it  was  of  that  churlish  kind  which,  with 
no  desire  to  possess  those  merits  for  their  own  sake, 
fiercely  resents  the  superiority  they  imply. 

His  dinner  disposed  of,  he  went  down-stairs, 
treading  heavily  as  he  passed  his  enemy's  door, 
which  was  now  closed.  Bartholomew  had  told  him 
of  the  company  that  had  arrived,  and  he  could  hear 
their  laughter  as  he  went  by.  He  peered  into  the 
kitchen  to  see  what  their  servants  looked  like;  and 
the  magnificence  of  attire  of  their  coachman,  valet, 
and  waiting-woman  did  not  put  him  into  any  better 
humour.  He  then  stepped  into  the  yard  and  viewed 
their  coach,  and  finally  took  notice  of  their  horses 
feeding  in  the  stalls.  Seeing  nothing  he  could  dis- 
parage, he  contented  himself  with  a  sniff  of  scorn 
at  such  extravagant  fopperies,  and  betook  himself 
to  the  public  dining-room  to  wait  while  Bartholomew 
attended  to  his  own  appetite  in  the  kitchen.  The 
Squire  had  heard  the  arrival  of  the  stage-coach  some 
time  before,  and  he  now  supposed  there  might  be 
a  congenial  passenger  or  two  with  whom  to  ex- 
change news. 

He  found  a  single  passenger  —  a  slim,  discreet- 
looking  man  of  less  than  medium  height,  with  a 
smallish  brown  face  beginning  to  wrinkle,  a  sharp 
nose  and  chin,  a  curious  appearance  of  huddling 
himself  together  so  as  not  to  fill  much  space,  and 

41 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

lead-coloured  eyes  that  lifted  their  gaze  without 
haste  from  their  owner's  plate  and  rested  intently 
for  a  moment  upon  Thornby.  The  eyes  were  then 
deferentially  lowered.  The  man  was  decently 
dressed  in  brown  and  gray,  and  wore  a  wig  of  the 
latter  colour.  The  Squire  set  him  down  as  a  trades- 
man in  comfortable  circumstances,  or  perhaps  an 
attorney  or  attorney's  clerk,  and  a  civil  sort  of 
fellow  who  knew  how  to  drop  his  glance  in  the 
presence  of  his  betters. 

"  Good  day,  friend,"  began  the  Squire.  "  You 
arrived  by  the  stage-coach  from  the  North,  I  take 
it." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  other,  briefly,  but  civilly. 

"  Travelled  far  ?  "  pursued  Thornby. 

"  From  Edinburgh,  though  not  all  the  way  by  that 
coach.  And  previous  thereto,  from  Inverness- 
shire." 

"  You're  not  a  Scotchman,  though  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir ;  not  me,  sir.  Not  so  bad  as  that. 
I  was  with  the  Duke's  army  in  Scotland." 

"  Oh,  then,  you  helped  to  put  down  the  rebel- 
lion ?  "  said  the  Squire. 

"  In  my  humble  capacity,  sir.  I  was  waiting- 
gentleman  to  an  officer,  sir." 

("A  mighty  worthy  fellow,"  thought  the  Squire, 
while  the  stranger  paused  in  his  talk  to  dispose  of 

m 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

a  large  mouthful  of  meat.  "  He  might  pass  for  a 
shopkeeper  or  a  quill-driver,  yet  he  owns  at  once  to 
being  a  servant  —  though  for  my  part,  I  don't  see 
why  a  gentleman's  valet  shouldn't  rank  above  a 
rascal  clerk  or  tradesman  any  day  —  he  certainly 
sees  better  society.") 

"  I  did  my  small  share  of  fighting,"  continued  the 
worthy  fellow ;  "  was  wounded,  sir,  which  is  the 
reason  I'm  now  going  home  to  London." 

He  put  back  one  side  of  his  wig,  and  disclosed 
an  ear  minus  a  good  portion  of  its  rim.  Though  he 
gave  no  further  information  on  the  point,  and 
showed  no  sign  of  deafness,  it  was  to  be  assumed 
that  some  internal  injury  had  been  caused,  for  it 
was  difficult  to  see  how  the  mere  mutilation  of  the 
ear,  damaging  as  it  was  to  the  man's  appearance, 
could  be  held  sufficient  reason  for  his  retirement 
from  service. 

"  Your  health,  sir,"  said  the  man,  raising  a  pot 
of  ale  to  his  lips. 

"  Thankye,  —  thankye,  my  good  man,"  said  the 
Squire,  approvingly. 

"  You  live  in  these  parts,  sir,  may  I  be  so  bold  to 
ask?"  said  the  good  man,  with  a  deferential  mild- 
ness, having  swallowed  a  great  part  of  the  contents 
of  the  pot. 

"Yes,  certainly.    Why  d'ye  ask?" 
43 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Because  in  that  case  you  might  be  able,  and  so 
condescending,  to  direct  me  to  a  person  I'm  wish- 
ing to  pay  my  respects  to>,  —  a  gentleman  of  the 
name  of  Foxwell." 

"  Foxwell !    What  do  you  want  of  him?  " 

The  abruptness  of  the  Squire's  speech,  and  the 
sudden  clouding  of  his  brow,  would  have  attracted 
anybody's  notice,  and  were  not  lost  on  the  man 
whose  request  had  caused  them. 

"  Robert  Foxwell,  Esquire,"  added  the  man, 
quietly,  "  who  came  into  this  county  from  London 
about  two  years  back,  is  the  particular  gentleman 
I  mean." 

"  Ay,  there's  only  one,"  replied  the  Squire, 
gloomily,  "  only  one  Foxwell  in  this  county  now. 
He's  the  last  of  the  name." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  other,  delicately,  "  but 
if  I  dared  take  the  liberty,  I  should  judge  from  your 
manner  that  you're  not  a  friend  of  his." 

"By  the  lord,  you're  a  good  judge!"  said 
Thornby,  without  hesitation. 

"  Thank  you  very  humbly,  sir.  If  I  might  take 
the  "further  liberty  of  asking  whether  he's  a  man 
of  —  ah  —  any  considerable  wealth  to  speak  of, 
nowadays  —  " 

"  He's  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse,  and  I'm  not 
sorry  to  say  it." 

44 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  I'm  rather  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  the  man,  look- 
ing gravely  into  his  pot  of  ale.  "  Oh,  not  on  his 
account,  sir:  on  my  own.  I'm  purely  selfish  in 
my  sorrow,  sir.  The  truth  is,  I  had  something  to 
sell  him." 

"  Well,  friend,"  said  the  Squire,  taking  a  seat 
near  the  table's  end  where  the  traveller  was,  "  if 
it's  something  of  any  value  that  you  have  to  sell, 
my  advice  is  to  look  for  another  customer." 

"  The  trouble  is,"  replied  the  man,  musingly, 
"  this  that  I  have  to  sell  wouldn't  be  of  any  value 
to  anybody  but  Mr.  Foxwell  —  unless  to  his 
enemies." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  very  softly,  as  if 
they  represented  a  meditative  afterthought  of  no 
practical  utility.  The  man  continued  to  keep  his 
eyes  lowered  from  meeting  the  Squire's,  and  a 
thoughtful  pause  ensued. 

"  Enemies  ?  What  the  devil  —  ? "  said  the 
Squire  in  his  mind.  But  presently  he  broke  forth 
in  his  blunt  manner,  "  Lookye,  my  man,  you  may 
speak  freely  to  me  if  you  be  so  minded.  I'm  all  for 
plain-dealing,  I  am.  My  name  is  Thornby,  —  any- 
body can  tell  you  how  Thomas  Thornby,  of  Thornby 
Hall,  Justice  of  the  Peace,  stands  in  this  county. 
Anybody  can  tell  you  whether  he's  to  be  trusted  or 
not.  What's  all  this  here  about  Mr.  Foxwell  and  his 

45 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

enemies?  It  concerns  me,  by  the  lord,  for  I'm  at 
least  no  friend  of  his,  I  can  tell  you  that  much  and 
not  betray  any  secrets,  neither." 

"  Why,  then,  sir,"  said  the  other,  his  face  light- 
ing up  as  though  a  happy  idea  had  that  instant 
occurred  to  him,  "  you  might  be  a  better  customer 
for  what  I  have  to  sell  than  Mr.  Foxwell  himself." 

"  By  the  lord,  I'm  able  to  pay  a  better  price,"  said 
the  Squire,  with  frank  self-gratulation. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  Mr.  Foxwell's  history, 
sir  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  I  know  that  he  was  born  at  Foxwell  Court,  the 
old  seat  of  the  family  in  this  country;  that  he  was 
sent  away  to  school  when  young,  and  then  to  Ox- 
ford, and  after  that  travelled  in  foreign  parts.  Fine 
way  to  bring  up  an  Englishman!  When  he  did 
come  back  to  his  own  country,  he  thought  best  to 
live  in  London,  and  he  never  darkened  his  father's 
door  in  those  days:  there  wasn't  any  love  lost 
between  him  and  his  people  here  in  their  lifetime, 
I've  heard.  Howe'er  that  be,  he  wasn't  seen  here- 
abouts, so  I  never  set  eyes  on  him  till  he  came  back 
to  the  Foxwell  estate  to  live,  about  two  years  since, 
after  squandering  a  fortune  his  uncle  left  him  —  so 
the  story  goes.  That's  all  the  history  I  know  of 
him." 

"  I  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of  one  part,  sir,  —  as 
46 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  squandering  his  money  in  town.  I  had  hoped 
perhaps  his  affairs  had  improved  since  he  retired 
from  fashionable  life." 

"  But  what  of  his  history  ?  I've  told  you  all  I 
know.  What  do  you  know  ?  " 

The  Squire  leaned  forward  toward  the  traveller 
with  an  almost  painful  expression  of  eagerness  on 
his  face. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  the  other,  as  if  with  some  reluc- 
tance, "  as  you  are  good  enough  to  take  an  interest, 
I  see  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  tell  you  a  little 
story.  I  dare  say  you  remember  the  affair  of  Lord 
Hilby,  —  him  that  was  murdered  by  footpads  one 
night  in  Covent  Garden." 

"  I  heard  of  it  at  the  time,"  said  the  Squire, 
"  'twas  two  or  three  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  sir.  His  lordship  had  been  playing  till  a 
late  hour  in  a  gaming-house,  you  may  remember, 
and  had  won  very  heavily.  He  was  walking  away 
from  the  house,  his  pockets  full  of  gold.  He  was 
attended  by  a  servant  and  a  linkboy.  It  was  a  very 
dark  night.  No  doubt,  sir,  you  know  the  place,  — 
what  they  call  the  piazza  in  Covent  Garden,  where 
the  gaming-houses  are." 

"  I  was  there  —  once,"  replied  the  Squire,  with 
a  glum  look :  no  doubt  he  had  reason  to  repent  the 
experience. 

47 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Ay,  sir,  once  is  enough  for  many  a  country 
gentleman,"  said  the  other,  sympathetically, 
"  though  the  tables  don't  always  have  the  best  of 
it.  There's  been  fortunes  retrieved  there,  as  well 
as  fortunes  lost.  And  certainly  Lord  Hilby  had  been 
in  wonderful  luck  that  night.  Some  think  that 
word  of  his  large  winnings  had  been  passed  out  to  a 
person  in  the  street,  in  the  short  time  between  his 
rising  from  the  table  and  his  leaving  the  house.  Of 
course  everybody  in  the  room  knew  how  great  his 
winnings  were,  and  saw  where  he  put  them.  In  any 
case,  there  was  no  chair  to  be  had  when  he  came 
out,  and  he  started  to  walk  to  Pall  Mall.  But  he 
hadn't  gone  far  when  suddenly  three  ruffians  sprang 
up  from  the  foot  of  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
colonnade,  where  they  had  been  crouching  all  in  a 
heap.  One  of  them  knocked  the  link  out  of  the  boy's 
hand,  one  attacked  the  servant  with  a  bludgeon,  and 
the  third  caught  my  lord  by  the  throat  and  called 
for  his  money." 

"  'Tis  a  wicked,  dangerous  place,  London ! " 
observed  the  Squire,  in  a  low  voice,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  The  linkboy  ran  away,  leaving  his  torch  still 
burning  on  the  ground.  The  fellow  who  had 
knocked  it  now  joined  him  that  was  grappling  with 
his  lordship.  All  this  the  servant  saw,  and  then  he 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

was  felled  to  the  earth,  where  he  lay  stunned  for 
a  little  while.  During  that  time,  it  must  have  been, 
the  footpads  struck  my  lord  dead  with  a  bludg- 
eon." 

Thornby  gave  a  shiver  of  discomfort. 

"  When  the  servant  came  to,"  the  narrator  con- 
tinued, "  he  found  that  the  footpads  had  gone;  and 
two  gentlemen,  who  had  left  the  same  gaming- 
house soon  after  his  master,  were  now  examining 
him  to  see  if  he  was  alive,  by  the  light  of  the  torch, 
which  one  of  them  had  picked  up.  They  had  seen 
the  scuffle  as  they  were  coming  from  the  gaming- 
house, and  had  run  up  with  their  swords  drawn, 
making  such  a  noise  that  maybe  the  footpads  had 
imagined  them  to  be  a  large  party.  In  any  case, 
the  footpads  had  taken  to  their  heels.  The  two 
gentlemen  informed  the  servant  they  believed  his 
master  to  be  dead.  He  joined  them  in  a  further 
examination,  and  found  that  his  lordship's  money 
was  gone." 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure,"  said  Thornby.  "  The  rascals 
got  the  money  before  they  ran  away." 

"  A  very  natural  supposition,  sir,  —  in  fact,  the 
only  probable  one.  The  servant  came  to  that  at 
once,  and  the  world  accepted  it  afterwards,  —  that 
the  footpads  had  succeeded  in  getting  the  money 
before  the  two  gentlemen  arrived.  But,  sir,  do  you 

49 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

know  that  in  this  world  'tis  just  as  often  that  the 
probable  supposition  isn't  the  true  one?  " 

"What  d'ye  mean?" 

"  Why,  sir,  the  truth  is,  as  I'm  a  living  man,  — 
and  this  is  entirely  between  us  for  the  present,  sir, 
—  'tis  a  secret  I've  kept  for  a  long  time,  and  if  I 
didn't  feel  I  could  rely  on  you  as  a  gentleman  with 
a  particular  interest  in  Mr.  Foxwell  —  " 

"  Certainly  you  can  rely  on  me,  —  no  fears  on 
that  score.  But  what  the  deuce  has  this  to  do  with 
Foxwell?  Come,  out  with  it,  man!  I  can  keep  a 
secret  as  well  as  the  best." 

"  Well,  sir,  thanking  you  kindly  for  your  assur- 
ance, the  truth  is,  the  footpads  hadn't  got  the  money 
before  they  ran  away.  At  least  they  hadn't  got  all 
of  it,  or  so  much  but  that  a  considerable  amount 
was  left." 

"  How,  then,  if  the  servant  found  it  was  all 
gone?" 

"  Simply  that  those  two  gentlemen,  having  suf- 
fered heavy  losses  that  night,  being  in  all  likelihood 
at  their  wits'  end  for  a  further  supply  of  the  needful, 
and  finding  his  lordship's  pockets  lined  with  the 
same,  had  succumbed  to  the  temptation  of  an  in- 
stant, and  transferred  the  shiners  from  his  pockets 
to  their  own  while  the  servant  still  lay  senseless 
on  the  ground." 

50 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  The  devil  you  say  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Squire. 

"  A  shocking  thing,  sir,  no  doubt,  —  robbery  of 
the  dead.  It  has  a  singularly  bad  sound  when  put 
that  way,  for  some  reason  or  other,  has  it  not? 
So  ungentlemanly  a  crime,  if  I  may  presume  to  offer 
an  opinion,  sir." 

"  A  devilish  risky  one,  too,  I  should  say." 

"  Why,  no,  sir,  I  should  think  a  particularly  safe 
one  on  this  occasion.  The  servant  and  the  linkboy 
could  both  testify  to  the  attack  by  the  footpads,  and 
it  would  be  taken  as  certain  —  just  as  everybody 
did  take  it  —  that  the  footpads  had  succeeded  in 
their  purpose  before  they  fled." 

"  Ay,  but  the  footpads  themselves  knew  they 
hadn't.  They  had  only  to  come  forward  and  say 
as  much." 

"  But  by  coming  forward  to  say  it,  sir,  they  must 
needs  have  incriminated  themselves  of  the  mur- 
der. No,  there  was  little  reason  to  fear  that,  I 
should  consider :  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  never  did 
come  forward.  Nor  I  never  heard  of  their  even 
threatening  to  do  so  —  in  a  way  of  extorting  money, 
you  understand.  No,  sir,  a  very  safe  crime  on  the 
part  of  the  two  gentlemen,  if  I  may  say  so  again. 
And,  lookye,  sir,  how  circumstances  alter  the  ap- 
pearance of  things.  Suppose  my  lord  had  lost  the 
money  in  the  gaming-house  that  night,  and  these 

51 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

two  gentlemen  had  won  it,  as  might  very  easily  have 
happened.  There  would  then  have  been  no  crime 
in  their  possessing  it,  no  dishonour,  no  ungentle- 
manliness;  they  would  have  had  no  reason  for 
concealment.  But  as  matters  were,  if  the  truth 
ever  got  out,  are  there  any  bounds  to  the  horror  and 
ignominy  with  which  the  names  of  those  gentlemen 
would  be  held  by  the  great  world  they  moved  in?  " 

"  But  if  it  never  got  out,  then  how  the  devil  do 
you  know  it  ?  Answer  me  that,  man  ?  " 

"  In  a  moment,  sir.  I  should  have  thought  you 
would  be  curious  as  to  who  these  gentlemen  were?  " 

"  Well,  who  were  they  ?    In  course  I'm  curious." 

"  One  of  them  was  a  certain  baronet,  since  de- 
ceased; the  other,  Robert  Foxwell,  Esquire." 

"Eh!" 

"  Robert  Foxwell,  Esquire,"  repeated  the  stranger. 

Mr.  Thornby's  surprise,  as  depicted  on  his 
countenance,  was  as  jubilant  as  if  he  had  received 
sudden  news  of  an  unexpected  bequest.  He  rose 
and  snapped  his  fingers  in  the  air,  and  seemed  with 
difficulty  to  restrain  a  shout.  But  after  a  moment 
he  sat  down  again,  and  eagerly  demanded : 

"  But  how  do  you  know  it  ?  —  how  do  you  know 
it,  man  ?  How  are  you  sure  of  it  ?  " 

"  You  shall  see  in  a  minute,  sir.  The  baronet 
had  excellent  luck  with  the  money  he  took,  and  was 

52 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

able  to  make  as  good  a  figure  as  ever.  But  the 
adage,  sir,  in  regard  to  ill-gotten  gains,  though  it 
failed  in  his  case,  was  fulfilled  in  Mr.  Foxwell's. 
There  does  seem  to  be  a  partiality  shown  in  the 
workings  of  Providence  sometimes.  Mr.  Foxwell 
had  the  worst  of  luck,  and  soon  the  bailiffs  were 
after  him.  He  was  taken  to  a  sponging-house,  and, 
after  trying  friend  after  friend  in  vain,  he  saw 
imprisonment  for  debt  staring  him  in  the  face.  I 
suppose  his  interest  in  the  family  estate  hereabouts 
was  tied  up  in  some  way." 

"  Ay,  he  could  touch  nothing  but  his  share  of 
the  income,"  said  the  Squire. 

"  And  on  that,  no  doubt,  he  had  already  raised 
what  he  could.  A  mere  drop  in  the  bucket,  I  dare 
say.  However  it  be,  he  was  certainly  in  a  desperate 
condition.  I  don't  know  whether  you've  ever  seen 
the  inside  of  a  debtors'  prison,  sir,  —  " 

"  Ecod,  man,  not  me !  " 

"  Only  as  a  matter  of  curiosity,  sir,  I  meant.  But 
you'll  take  my  word  for  it,  I  hope,  that  'tis  really 
no  place  for  a  gentleman.  The  fear  of  it  would 
drive  a  man  of  Mr.  Foxwell's  habits,  I  can  well  be- 
lieve, to  desperate  measures.  Well,  sir,  what  did 
he  do,  when  he  saw  everything  failing  him,  but 
write  a  letter  to  the  baronet  —  he  had  written  three 
before,  and  got  no  answer  —  a  letter  to  the  baronet, 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

from  the  sponging-house,  in  which  he  said  that  if 
the  baronet  didn't  come  to  his  assistance  imme- 
diately, he'd  be  damned  if  he  wouldn't  confess  all 
and  let  the  world  know  who  really  got  Lord  Hilby's 
money  that  night.  Yes,  sir,  in  black  and  white  he 
wrote  those  words,  which  distinctly  appear  in  the 
letter,  — '  Confess  all  and  let  the  world  know  who 
got  Lord  Hilby's  money  that  night.'  So  the  baronet 
obligingly  went  to  his  assistance." 

"And  how  did  all  this  come  to  your  ears?" 
queried  the  Squire. 

"  The  baronet  threw  the  letter,  as  he  thought,  into 
the  fire.  But  he  had  a  faithful  servant,  who  hooked 
it  out,  as  a  matter  of  habit,  read  it  in  private,  and 
filed  it  away  for  future  reference.  He  didn't  see 
any  occasion  to  refer  to  it,  the  faithful  servant  didn't, 
for  a  long  time.  Meanwhile,  Mr.  Foxwell,  after 
various  ups  and  downs,  finally  left  London;  and 
the  baronet  died.  The  faithful  servant  became  wait- 
ing-gentleman to  a  king's  officer,  and  went  through 
the  campaign  in  Scotland.  Being  wounded,  and 
losing  his  place,  he  set  out  to  return  to  London. 
He  had  heard  what  county  Mr.  Foxwell  had  sought 
retirement  in,  and,  having  to  pass  through  that 
county  on  his  way  South,  he  thought  it  might  be 
worth  while  to  look  the  gentleman  up  and  see 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

whether  he  attached  any  value  to  an  interesting 
specimen  of  his  earlier  handwriting." 

"  So  you  are  the  baronet's  faithful  servant?  " 

"  Yes,  your  honour,  —  Jeremiah  Filson,  at  your 
service.  And  here  is  the  letter." 

He  produced  a  pocket-book  from  the  breast  of  his 
coat,  and  brought  the  document  out  of  a  double 
wrapper  of  soft  paper.  Holding  it  tightly  with 
both  hands,  he  placed  it  within  reading  distance  of 
the  Squire,  having  first  drawn  it  back  with  a  polite 
"  Your  pardon,  sir,"  when  the  latter  made  an  in- 
voluntary reach  for  it. 

"  His  hand,  sure  enough,"  said  the  Squire,  who 
had  sufficient  reason  in  the  correspondence  pre- 
ceding their  litigation  to  know  his  neighbour's  pen- 
manship. He  first  examined  the  signature,  "  R. 
Foxwell,"  and  then  carefully  read  the  note  — 
dashed  off  with  a  scratchy  pen  and  complete  dis- 
regard for  appearance  —  from  beginning  to  end. 
The  sheet  was  slightly  burnt  at  one  side,  and  had 
in  all  respects  the  evidence  of  genuineness. 

"  Lookye,  Jeremiah  Filson,"  said  the  Squire  at 
last,  as  he  eyed  the  letter  covetously,  "  Foxwell 
can't  for  his  life  give  you  twenty  pounds  ready 
money  for  that  piece  of  paper.  In  any  case  you  may 
be  sure  I  can  outbid  him.  Don't  you  approach  him 
at  all,  that's  my  advice.  'Twould  be  time  lost,  if 

55 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

you  expect  to  get  anything  worth  while;  and, 
besides  that,  he's  a  shrewd  fellow,  is  Mr.  Foxwell, 
and  he  might  bubble  you  out  of  the  letter  before 
ever  you  knew  what  you  were  at.  You'd  best  deal 
with  me,  you  had.  Understand,  I  wouldn't  make 
any  harmful  use  of  it,  though  I  do  dislike  the  man. 
But  I  have  the  fancy  to  crow  over  him  a  little, 
d'ye  see,  —  that's  all,  —  nothing  harmful.  Now 
what  —  " 

At  this  critical  moment  the  pair  were  interrupted 
by  Bartholomew  looking  in  and  announcing  that 
the  horses  were  ready.  Thornby  bade  him  shut  the 
door,  wait  outside,  and  be  damned.  The  first  and 
second  of  these  items  being  complied  with,  the 
Squire  entered  into  negotiations  with  Mr.  Filson 
for  the  possession  of  the  letter.  That  gentleman, 
having  carefully  put  away  the  document  in  its 
former  resting-place,  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  come 
to  terms.  He  listened  to  the  Squire  with  sedate 
civility,  but  was  adamant  upon  the  point  of  a  good 
round  sum  in  ready  money.  The  end  of  their  talk 
was  that  Filson  agreed  to  call  at  Thornby  Hall  the 
next  day,  and  not  to  dispose  of  the  letter  in  the 
meantime.  The  Squire  did  not  tell  the  man  that  Mr. 
Foxwell  was  even  then  under  the  same  roof  with 
them.  If  Filson  found  this  out  before  Foxwell's 
departure,  a  meeting  mi>ht  occur,  though  it  was 

56 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

scarce  likely  that  Foxwell  would  give  opportunity 
for  it  at  the  inn.  In  any  case,  ihe  Squire  would  have 
a  chance  to  outbid  his  enemy.  Having  elicited  the 
further  promise  that  Filson  would  not  at  any  time 
tell  Foxwell  that  he,  the  Squire,  was  dealing  for  the 
letter,  or  knew  of  its  existence,  he  took  his  leave. 

Mr.  Filson  heard  the  Squire's  horses  clatter 
out  of  the  passage,  and  break  into  a  trot  in  the 
High  Street.  As  the  sound  died  away,  he  drank  the 
last  of  his  ale,  and  indulged  in  a  comfortable  smile. 

"  A  mighty  fortunate  meeting,"  he  mused.  "  This 
booby  will  buy  the  letter  at  my  own  price.  He 
would  give  his  brains,  if  he  had  any,  for  the  means 
of  getting  the  upper  hand  of  his  enemy.  And  a  per- 
fectly safe  man  to  deal  with,  too.  As  for  Foxwell, 
I  could  never  be  sure  but  he  would  cut  my  throat 
if  I  went  to  him  with  the  letter.  Now  that  diffi- 
culty is  removed,  —  'tis  certainly  the  hand  of  Provi- 
dence." 

He  yawned  profoundly,  and  then  resumed : 

"  I  may  find  this  Justice  of  the  Peace  a  convenient 
friend  if  I  have  occasion  to  tarry  in  this  neighbour- 
hood. But  I'll  get  his  money  for  the  letter  first: 
otherwise  he  might  make  his  friendship  a  part  of 
the  price.  A  fool  would  have  gone  farther  at  this 
first  interview,  —  but  you're  no  fool,  Jeremiah;  no, 
sir,  a  fool  is  what  you  certainly  are  not." 

57 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

He  rang  the  bell  and  asked  to  be  shown  to  a 
bedroom,  saying  he  had  not  slept  the  previous  night. 
Being  informed  by  the  landlady  that  a  room  would 
be  ready  in  ten  minutes,  he  strolled  out  to  the  yard 
to  pass  the  intervening  time  there.  He  had  taken 
a  turn  or  two,  when  out  from  the  kitchen  came  a 
young  woman  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  huff.  She 
was  very  red  in  the  face,  and  talked  ostensibly  to 
herself,  but  really  for  the  benefit  of  all  who  might 
hear. 

"  The  conversation  of  that  London  maid  is  truly 
scangelous !  "  quoth  she. 

"  Eh,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Filson,  stopping  in  front 
of  her,  "  has  anybody  been  scandalizing  those  pretty 
ears  of  yours  ?  " 

Prudence  —  for  it  was  Miss  Foxwell's  maid  — 
took  note  of  the  stranger  with  much  artless  affecta- 
tion of  surprise,  exclaiming: 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir  —  !  "  But  before  she  got 
any  further,  she  saw  reason  for  real  wonder.  "  Eh ! 
speaking  of  ears,  what  has  happened  to  yours  ?  " 

"  Honourably  sacrificed  in  war,  miss,"  replied 
Filson,  readily ;  "  slashed  by  a  Jacobite  officer  at 
the  battle  of  Culloden,  four  or  five  months  ago." 

"  Oh,  how  barbarious !  "  cried  Prudence.  "  How 
could  he  ever  have  the  heart  to  do  such  a  thing?  " 

"  Oh,  I  gave  him  as  good  as  I  got.  If  you  happen 
58 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  see  a  handsome  young  gentleman  with  his  beauty 
improved  by  a  mark  like  a  heart  on  a  playing-card, 
under  his  right  eye,  you  may  know  that  he  owes  that 
decoration  to  me.  I  did  it  with  a  bayonet,  miss, 
and  a  very  pretty  job  I  made  of  it." 

"  Lor,  I'm  not  like  ever  to  see  any  Jacobite 
officer." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure.  My  gentleman  is  probably 
somewhere  in  this  neighbourhood.  So  keep  your 
pretty  eyes  open,  my  dear.  His  name  is  Everell  - 
Charles  Everell  —  so  I  was  told  by  a  prisoner  we 
took,  who  had  seen  our  little  exchange  of  compli- 
ments :  though  'tis  scarce  like  he'll  be  travelling 
under  his  real  name  just  at  present." 

"  Ay,  for  I  hear  they're  going  to  hang  all  the 
Jacobites  they  catch." 

"  So  they  are,  except  the  great  ones,  and  them 
they  behead.  They've  already  begun  the  good  work 
in  London,  both  ways.  Whether  this  gentleman  is 
high  enough  to  be  honoured  with  the  axe,  or 
whether  his  case  will  be  served  by  a  halter,  I  know 
not.  He  was  in  the  Pretender's  body-guard,  at  any 
rate." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  he's  in  this  neighbour- 
hood?" 

"  Because,  sweetheart,  I  saw  him  yesterday  on 
the  road  the  first  time  since  Culloden  fight.  Before 

59 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

I  had  a  chance  to  lay  information  against  him,  he 
had  given  me  the  slip.  I  spent  the  whole  night 
in  trying  to  get  on  his  track,  at  inns  and  other 
houses.  I  think  he  may  still  be  in  these  parts,  and  if 
I  can  manage  it  he  shall  meet  his  just  deserts." 

"  How  monstrous  bitter  you  are  against  him,  to 
be  sure! " 

"  No.  I'm  not  bitter,  my  dear.  Tis  only  patriot- 
ism —  loyalty ;  —  'tis  our  duty,  you  know,  to  bring 
any  of  these  rebels  to  justice  when  Providence  puts 
it  in  our  way.  And  then  I'm  a  persistent  man, 
too;  when  I  once  get  on  the  scent  of  a  thing,  I  can't 
stop  till  I've  run  it  down.  And  so,  pretty  miss," 
he  added,  playfully,  "  if  you  happen  to  see  such 
a  gentleman,  within  the  next  day  or  two,  —  young 
and  good-looking,  and  most  likely  travelling  with  a 
friend  of  about  the  same  age,  who's  also  a  hand- 
some young  man  but  summat  heavier  built,  —  why, 
if  you  see  such  a  gentleman,  with  the  ace  of  hearts 
on  his  cheek,  hold  your  tongue,  and  send  word  to  me 
in  care  of  this  inn  —  Jeremiah  Filson  —  and  I'll 
see  you  get  your  share  of  the  reward." 

Mr.  Filson  smiled  tenderly;  and  then  yawned. 
A  moment  later  the  landlady  called  from  the  entry 
that  his  room  was  ready. 

"  Remember,  my  dear,  the  ace  of  hearts,  and 
Jeremiah  Filson,"  he  said,  with  a  parting  grin  and 

60 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

wink,  and  then  followed  the  chambermaid,  whom  the 
landlady  had  ordered  to  show  him  his  room.  Pru- 
dence, at  the  entry  door,  watched  him  ascend  the 
stairs  till  he  disappeared  at  the  turn,  and  heard  him 
bestow  a  gallant  "  my  dear  "  upon  the  chamber- 
maid as  he  continued  on  his  way,  whereupon  she 
tossed  her  head  and  became  suddenly  scornful. 

"  Poh !  Quite  a  chivalarious  gentleman !  "  said 
she.  "  Nasty  scrub !  He  may  whistle  for  his  Jacobite 
with  the  ace  of  hearts  on  his  face,  for  all  the  help 
he  gets  from  me !  "  With  that,  Miss  Prudence  re- 
turned to  the  kitchen,  but  sat  aloof  from  the  other 
servants,  who  were  making  merry  over  their  bread 
and  cheese  and  beer.  The  worsting  she  had  got 
in  a  passage  of  ironical  compliments  with  Lady 
Strange's  maid,  which  had  driven  her  from  the 
company  to  the  yard,  was  still  sore  in  her  mind,  so 
that  she  sat  in  contemptuous  silence,  torn  between 
the  desire  to  tell  the  others  of  the  Jacobite-hunting 
guest  and  the  satisfaction  of  keeping  them  deprived 
of  subject-matter  so  interesting.  She  flattered  her- 
self that  she  was  the  only  person  in  the  house  whom 
Mr.  Filson  had  taken  into  his  confidence;  and  this 
was  true,  though  on  his  arrival  he  had  looked  into 
all  the  public  parts  of  the  inn  and  questioned  the 
landlord  as  to  the  guests  up-stairs.  His  disclosure 


61 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  her  had  followed  naturally  upon  her  notice  of  his 
ear. 

Filson,  being  ushered  into  one  of  the  back  cham- 
bers, bade  the  maid  have  his  portmanteau  brought  up 
from  the  public  room.  He  then  took  off  his  shoes 
and  threw  himself  on  the  bed.  The  boy  who  carried 
up  the  portmanteau,  two  minutes  later,  found  him 
snoring. 

Mr.  Filson  had  not  been  asleep  five  minutes,  when 
three  horsemen  —  the  three  that  have  been  men- 
tioned more  than  once  hitherto  in  the  course  of 
this  history  —  turned  in  from  the  street,  and  came 
to  a  stop  at  the  door  to  the  public  room.  Two  of 
the  riders  slid  from  their  saddles,  and  the  third,  — 
the  postboy  in  charge,  —  after  dropping  two  cloak- 
bags  beside  the  door,  proceeded  with  the  horses 
to  the  yard.  The  two  gentlemen  —  for  gentlemen 
they  were,  as  was  plain  from  every  appearance, 
though  their  clothes  had  seen  considerable  service  — 
stood  for  a  moment  glancing  around.  They  were 
young  and  well  favoured;  both  of  average  height; 
one  stoutly  made,  the  other  of  a  slighter  build.  The 
slender  fellow  had  a  small  red  scar,  which  indeed 
was  rather  like  a  heart  in  shape,  on  his  right  cheek ; 
but  it  did  not  apparently  spoil  the  beauty  of  his  face. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

FUGITIVES 

THE  slender  young  gentleman,  after  his  swift  sur- 
vey of  the  surroundings,  opened  the  door  to  the 
public  dining-room. 

"  Come  along,  the  place  is  empty,"  he  said,  and, 
picking  up  one  of  the  cloak-bags,  stepped  briskly 
into  the  room  so  recently  vacated  by  Mr.  Jeremiah 
Filson.  "  Thank  God  for  a  decent-looking  inn !  " 
he  added,  heartily,  tossing  his  cloak-bag  into  a  cor- 
ner and  dropping  into  a  chair,  where  he  began  to 

hum: 

" '  Charlie  is  my  darling, 
My  darling,  my  darling ; 
Char  —  '" 

"  Hush ! "  exclaimed  his  companion,  who  had 
followed  with  the  other  bag  and  closed  the  door. 
"  Heaven's  sake,  Charles,  none  of  those  songs!  " 

But  Charles  finished : 

" « —  lie  is  my  darling,  — 
The  young  Cheva/<w,' " 

63 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

and  then  answered,  gaily :  "  Why  not  ?  We're 
alone  here?  " 

The  face  of  the  young  man  —  the  slender  one, 
addressed  by  his  comrade  as  Charles  —  was  not 
only  handsome,  but  pleasant  and  animated,  being 
lighted  by  soft  blue  eyes.  The  nose  was  slightly 
aquiline,  the  other  features  regular.  He  wore  his 
own  hair;  his  old  suit  of  blue  velvet  carried  an 
appearance  of  faded  elegance;  his  three-cornered 
hat  still  boasted  some  remnants  of  silver  lace;  he 
was  in  riding-boots,  and  a  sword  hung  at  his  side. 

His  comrade,  more  broadly  and  squarely  made  in 
face  as  in  body,  a  man  serious  and  resolute  in 
aspect,  was  similarly  dressed,  in  clothes  now  in  their 
decline  but  of  a  darker  shade. 

"  Ay,  alone  here,"  said  he,  putting  his  bag  with 
the  other's,  "  but  'tis  as  well  to  leave  off  habits  that 
may  be  dangerous.  You  might  as  easily  break  out 
into  one  of  the  old  ditties  in  company  as  alone. 
I  dare  say  nobody  finds  any  harm  in  the  mere 
singing  of  them;  but  'tis  apt  to  set  people's  minds 
on  certain  matters,  and  we'd  best  not  have  them 
think  of  those  matters  in  relation  to  us.  We  excite 
curiosity  enough,  I  make  no  doubt." 

"  Only  your  fancy,  Will.  Why  should  we  excite 
more  curiosity  than  any  other  two  travellers  ? " 
said  Charles.  "  What  is  so  extraordinary  in  our  ap- 

64 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

pearance?  Come,  I've  asked  you  a  hundred  times, 
and  you  can't  answer.  Your  constitutional  pru- 
dence, your  natural  cautiousness,  which  you  know 
I  vastly  admire  and  try  to  emulate  —  " 

Will  smiled  at  this. 

"  Those  excellent  traits  of  thine,  dear  lad," 
Charles  went  on,  "  cause  you  to  magnify  things,  or 
rather  to  transfigure  them  altogether,  so  that,  if 
anybody  looks  at  us,  you  see  suspicion  where  there 
is  really  nothing  but  the  careless  curiosity  of  a 
moment.  Where  he  says  in  his  mind,  '  Strangers,' 
you  can  almost  hear  him  saying  with  his  lips, 
'  Jacobites.'  " 

"  Hush !  You  may  laugh  as  you  please,  Charles : 
prudence  and  caution,  even  carried  to  excess,  are 
likelier  to  serve  our  turn  than  carelessness  and  bold- 
ness, till  we  are  safe  out  of  England." 

"  Why,  there  again !  You  are  more  apprehensive 
a  thousand  times  since  we  have  crossed  the  border 
than  you  were  during  all  the  time  in  Scotland,  all 
the  hiding  time,  and  the  time  of  dodging  enemies 
on  the  alert  for  us  in  every  direction." 

"  I  confess  it.  As  one  nears  the  end  of  a  diffi- 
cult or  dangerous  business,  one  should  be  the  more 
fearful  of  disaster.  Think  how  it  may  turn  to 
naught  all  the  toils  that  have  brought  one  so  far. 
Never  relax  because  the  goal  is  in  sight:  if  you 

65 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

trip  at  the  last,  and  through  your  own  folly,  too, 
'tis  the  more  to  be  regretted." 

"All  true,  my  dear  Rough  wood;  and  yet,  for 
our  peace  of  mind,  'tis  comforting  to  think  how 
much  safer  we  really  are  in  England  than  we  were 
across  the  border.  Nobody  expects  to  find  Jacobites 
on  the  highroads  of  England." 

"  There  have  been  far  too  many  seen  on  the  high- 
roads of  England  lately,"  said  Roughwood,  with  a 
gloomy  smile. 

"  Ah,  yes,  the  poor  fellows  now  at  Carlisle  and 
York,"  replied  Charles ;  "  but  Jacobites  uncaught 
are  a  different  matter.  They  are  all  thought  to  be 
skulking  in  the  Highlands,  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land's soldiers  closing  nearer  and  nearer  round 
them.  Heaven  send  that  the  Prince  may  escape! 
Would  that  his  chances  were  as  good  as  ours !  'Tis 
probable  every  mile  of  the  Scottish  coast  is  patrolled 
by  government  vessels,  as  every  foot  of  the  High- 
lands is  hunted  over  by  regulars  and  militia  —  or 
will  be  hunted  over,  ere  all  is  done.  'Twas  high 
time  we  left  our  quarters  among  the  rocks  and 
heather,  and  a  miracle  of  good  luck  that  we  slipped 
through  the  enemy's  lines  and  across  the  border. 
England  is  the  safer  land  for  us,  and  vastly  easier 
to  escape  from  by  sea." 

Their  talk  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
66 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  landlady,  who  took  their  orders  for  dinner,  after 
which  meal  they  intended  to  resume  their  journey. 
When  they  were  again  alone,  Charles  continued : 

"  So,  my  dear  lad,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  let  us 
be  easy  in  our  minds,  put  away  apprehensions,  and 
avoid  suspicion  by  showing  no  expectation  of  it. 
Your  mad  resolve  to  come  to  England  and  see  the 
beloved  lady  before  you  flee  the  kingdom,  turns  out 
to  be  the  wisest  course  we  could  have  taken." 

"  Wise  or  mad,  my  dear  Everell,"  said  Will 
Roughwood,  "  I'd  have  taken  it  at  any  risk." 

"  And  wise  or  mad,"  said  Everell,  gaily,  "  I'd 
have  followed  you  at  any  risk  —  for  company's 
sake,  to  say  no  more.  But  indeed  there's  less  risk 
for  me  than  you.  Very  few  people  in  England 
know  my  face:  ever  since  boyhood,  my  life  has 
been  spent  abroad,  until  I  joined  the  Prince.  'Tis 
different  with  you,  who  were  brought  up  almost 
entirely  within  the  two  kingdoms.  Egad,  there's 
the  advantage  I  derive  from  my  father  having  been 
the  complete  Jacobite  —  one  of  those  who,  for  all 
their  love  of  country,  preferred  exile  in  order  to  be 
at  the  centre  of  the  plotting."  The  young  man 
smiled  to  think  how  all  that  plotting  for  a  second 
Stuart  restoration  had  come  to  naught. 

'  There's  chance  of  recognition  for  you,  too," 
said  Roughwood.  "  Consider  how  many  people 

67 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

saw  you  when  we  invaded  these  Northern  counties 
last  year.  And  consider  those  of  our  own  party 
who  have  turned  traitor,  buying  their  lives  by  in- 
forming against  their  comrades.  And  we  are  in 
constant  danger  of  encountering  men  who  fought 
against  us,  like  that  fellow  we  dodged  so  narrowly 
yesterday." 

"  Oh,  he  and  I  had  our  particular  reasons  for 
remembering  each  other,"  said  Everell,  touching  the 
scar  on  his  cheek.  "  'Tis  not  in  chance  that  we 
should  run  across  him  again.  One  such  coincidence 
is  remarkable  enough." 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  In  any  case,  he  is  not  the  only 
soldier  of  the  enemy  who  would  remember  us.  We 
are  like  to  fall  in  with  more ;  and  'tis  of  such,  as  all 
accounts  agree,  that  most  of  the  witnesses  are,  who 
have  testified  at  Carlisle  and  York." 

"  Well,  then,  such  are  to  be  looked  for  in  Car- 
lisle and  York  at  present,  except  those  who  are  in 
London  for  the  like  purpose.  We  have  given  Car- 
lisle a  wide  berth,  we  will  steer  clear  of  York,  and 
we'll  not  go  to  London.  And  it  may  be  that  those 
of  the  enemy  who  remember  us  are  still  with  the 
army  in  Scotland,  hunting  down  our  comrades." 

Roughwood  smiled  at  his  friend's  habitual  power 
of  seeing  the  favourable  possibilities  and  ignoring 
the  adverse;  and  could  not  help  wondering  that 

68 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

fortune  had  brought  him  unscathed  through  so  many 
hazards  in  all  the  months  of  flight  and  concealment 
since  that  fatal  day  of  defeat  in  the  wind  and  snow- 
fall on  Culloden  Moor. 

"  You'll  run  into  trouble  yet,  I'm  fearing,"  said 
Roughwood,  with  solicitude  and  affection  in  his 
smile. 

"  As  for  mere  busybodies  here  in  England," 
Charles  Everell  continued,  apparently  bent  upon  dis- 
posing of  every  class  from  which  discovery  might 
be  possible ;  "  people  to  whom  the  idea  of  fugitive 
Jacobites  might  occur  at  this  time,  they  will  not 
look  to  find  officers  travelling  openly  as  gentlemen. 
They  will  suppose  that  fugitives  of  our  quality,  if 
any  fled  into  England  at  all,  would  come  disguised. 
Going  boldly  in  the  dress  and  manner  of  gentlemen, 
wearing  swords  and  showing  no  secrecy,  how  can 
we  excite  suspicion?  We  have  nothing  to  fear 
but  some  unlucky  chance  meeting,  like  that  we  gal- 
loped away  from  yesterday;  and  the  same  accident 
is  not  like  to  befall  us  again." 

"  But  if  that  fellow  who  recognized  you  should 
have  taken  it  into  his  head  to  hound  us  ?  " 

"  Is  he  likely  to  have  put  himself  to  the  trouble  ? 
Doubtless  he  has  his  own  affairs  to  pursue.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  we  got  rid  of  him  easily  enough 
by  spurring  our  horses  and  turning  out  of  the  road 

69 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

at  the  next  byway;  and,  if  forced  to  it,  we  can  do 
so  again." 

"  We  may  not  have  the  same  advantage  again. 
If  there  had  been  anybody  at  hand  yesterday,  I 
am  sure  he  would  have  called  out  and  denounced 
us.  I  don't  forget  his  look  when  he  first  saw  us, 
as  he  stood  in  front  of  that  wayside  ale-house.  He 
was  about  touching  his  hat  to  us  as  we  rode  up, 
when  he  beheld  your  face.  His  hand  remained  fixed 
in  the  air,  and  he  stared  as  if  you  had  been  the 
devil.  Then  he  glanced  wildly  around,  and  in  at 
the  ale-house  door;  he  was  certainly  looking  to 
see  if  help  was  in  call." 

"  'Twas  a  question  for  an  instant  whether  I 
should  run  my  sword  through  him,"  said  Everell, 
"  but  thank  God  such  impulses  never  prevail  with 
me.  So  I  merely  decided  not  to  stop  at  that  house 
of  refreshment,  and  gave  my  horse  the  spur.  And 
you  were  good  enough  to  follow  without  question, 
which  speaks  well  for  your  wisdom  and  my  own, 
my  dear  Will.  Always  do  so,  and  we  shall  always 
have  similar  good  fortune  in  escaping  the  perils  that 
beset  us." 

"  I  would  I  knew  what  our  guide  thought  of  the 
incident,  and  of  our  bribing  him  to  let  his  horses 
come  so  far  out  of  the  way." 

"  He  thought  merely  as  I  told  him,  no  doubt :  — 
70 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

in  the  first  case,  that  my  horse  bolted,  and  that  I 
took  it  as  an  omen  against  stopping  there;  in  the 
second,  that  we  really  had  a  friend  whose  house 
we  thought  to  find  by  turning  out  of  the  way.  But 
whatever  he  may  have  thought,  he  was  a  mum 
fellow,  and  doubtless  went  to  bed  as  soon  as  we 
arrived  at  last  night's  inn;  therefore  he  probably 
had  no  speech  with  the  lad  who  took  his  place  this 
morning." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Roughwood,  smilingly  resign- 
ing himself  to  the  other's  sense  of  security,  "  I  hope 
your  confidence  will  be  justified  to  the  end  of  the 
journey.  But  when  we  come  to  my  own  county, 
where  I  am  well  known,  there  indeed  we  must  needs 
go  warily." 

"  Why,  then,  of  course,  we  shall  stir  only  by 
night,"  said  Everell.  "  And  we  shall  not  tarry  long, 
if  all  goes  well." 

"  Only  till  I  can  see  her,"  replied  his  friend,  in  a 
voice  low  with  sadness  and  tenderness.  A  brief 
silence  fell  between  the  two  young  men,  till  Rough- 
wood  added,  "  One  last  meeting !  And  then  to  part, 
—  for  how  long,  God  knows !  " 

"  Oh,  you  may  come  back  to  England  safely  in 
two  or  three  years.  When  the  government  has  made 
examples  enough,  there  will  be  a  general  pardon; 
or  at  worst  a  Jacobite  may  slink  back  and  his 

71 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

presence  be  winked  at.  So  much  if  our  cause  be 
never  revived;  if  it  be  revived,  we  may  be  able 
to  come  back  openly  enough." 

Roughwood  shook  his  head.  "  'Twill  never  be 
revived  to  any  purpose.  We  can  never  rally  a  larger 
force  than  we  had  this  time ;  yet  one  can  see  plainly 
now  how  vain  our  hopes  were  from  the  first.  No, 
'twas  a  dream,  a  dream.  The  house  of  Hanover  is 
firmly  established  in  these  kingdoms:  the  star  of 
the  Stuarts  is  set.  If  a  general  pardon  is  ever 
granted  us,  it  will  be  for  that  reason,  —  because  we 
can  do  no  harm.  But,  meanwhile,  'tis  the  day  of 
punishment,  and  we  must  look  to  our  necks.  After 
I  have  seen  her,  we  have  only  to  find  Budge,  and 
lie  hid  till  he  happens  to  be  sailing." 

The  arrival  of  a  maid  with  their  dinner  put  a 
stop  for  the  time  to  this  kind  of  conversation,  in 
which  they  but  reviewed  their  situation  as  they  had 
done  a  score  of  times  within  the  past  few  days. 
They  had  ordered  frugally,  out  of  respect  to  the 
state  of  their  common  purse,  which  they  counted 
upon  to  carry  them  to  the  place  near  which  lived  both 
Roughwood's  affianced  wife  —  with  whom  it  was 
his  hope  to  exchange  assurances  of  faith  and  devo- 
tion ere  he  fled  his  native  country  —  and  the  master 
of  a  certain  vessel,  upon  whom  he  relied  for  their 
conveyance  across  the  channel.  Roughwood  had 

72 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

relations  at  this  place,  but,  as  they  sympathized  not 
with  his  Jacobitism,  which  he  had  acquired  through 
his  Scottish  kin,  he  considered  it  imprudent  to  seek 
a  further  supply  of  money  from  them.  Once  in 
France,  however,  he  could  communicate  in  safety 
with  his  sources  of  maintenance.  As  for  Everell, 
the  modest  but  sufficient  fortune  he  inherited  from 
his  Jacobite  father  had  long  been  placed  in  France, 
and  would  be  at  his  command  as  soon  as  he  reached 
Paris.  The  young  men  were  now  travelling  upon 
the  remainder  of  the  gold  with  which  both  had 
fortunately  been  supplied  a  few  days  before  the 
battle  of  Culloden.  They  had  not  had  occasion  to 
spend  money  during  the  months  of  concealment 
immediately  following  upon  the  total  defeat  of  their 
cause  at  that  contest,  their  hiding-place  —  first  a 
"  bothy  "  and  afterwards  a  cave  —  having  been  on 
the  estate  of  a  Highland  gentleman  who  shared  in 
their  seclusion,  and  by  whose  adherents  he  and  they 
were  fed. 

To  this  comrade  in  defeat  they  owed  also  the 
clothes  they  now  wore,  as  they  had  considered  it 
better  advised  to  appear  as  ordinary  gentlemen  in 
their  journey  through  England,  than  to  use  a  dis- 
guise which  it  would  require  some  acting  to  carry 
off.  Having  lived  a  part  of  his  time  in  the  great 
world,  this  Highland  laird  was  possessed  of  a  consid- 

73 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

erable  wardrobe  besides  that  limited  to  the  national 
dress,  and  in  order  to  furnish  out  his  two  friends 
he  had  risked  with  them  a  secret  visit  by  night  to 
his  own  mansion,  which  was  under  the  intermittent 
watch  of  government  troops.  The  gentleman  was 
of  a  build  rather  lighter  than  Roughwood  and 
stouter  than  Everell,  so  that  his  loosest  set  of  gar- 
ments was  not  impossible  of  wear  to  the  former, 
and  his  tightest  did  not  hang  too  limply  on  the 
body  of  the  latter.  Discarding  entirely  their  battle- 
worn  and  earth-soiled  clothes  for  these,  and  other- 
wise altering  and  augmenting  their  equipment  at 
their  friend's  expense,  the  two  fugitives  had,  by 
travelling  at  night  and  making  a  carefully  planned 
dash  at  the  most  critical  point,  put  themselves  out- 
side of  the  region  surrounded  by  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland's  forces.  Thereafter  they  had  dared 
to  move  by  day,  hiring  horses ;  and  either  Everell's 
boldness  or  Roughwood's  caution,  or  both,  had  car- 
ried them  so  far  without  other  adverse  chance  than 
the  meeting  with  the  man  who  remembered  Everell 
from  their  encounter  at  Culloden.  Being  without 
passports,  they  had  avoided  every  place  where  troops 
were  said  to  be  stationed,  and  in  crossing  the  border 
they  had  kept  to  the  moors  instead  of  the  roads : 
for  their  eccentric  manner  of  travelling,  their  in- 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

vention  was  equal  to  such  pretexts  as  the  curiosity 
of  horse-boys  and  others  might  require. 

When  the  servant  left  them  to  their  dinner,  they 
reverted  to  their  former  subject,  talking  as  they 
ate. 

"  'Tis  all  plain  sailing,  to  my  sight,"  said  Everell, 
cheerfully,  "  until  we  entrust  our  precious  bodies 
to  the  care  'of  your  friend  the  smuggler." 

"  I'll  warrant  Budge  to  be  true  stuff,"  replied 
Roughwood,  confidently.  "  He  would  risk  his  cut- 
ter to  save  my  neck.  We  used  to  play  with  his 
children  on  the  cliffs,  she  and  I.  —  And  now  I  shall 
be  looking  on  those  cliffs  for  the  last  time,  perhaps, 
—  and  on  England !  Well,  'tis  the  fate  of  losers 
in  the  game  of  rebellion."  He  made  no  attempt 
to  restrain  the  sigh  this  melancholy  reflection 
evoked. 

"Tut,  tut,  lad!"  protested  Everell,  with  unfeigned 
lightness  of  heart;  "take  my  word  for  it,  a  man 
can  live  out  of  England.  What  is  it  Shakespeare 
says,  that  my  father  used  to  quote  when  our  fellow- 
countrymen  visiting  us  would  commiserate  our 
exile?  'There's  livers  out  of  Britain.'  And  that 
speech  of  Coriolanus,  too :  '  I  turned  my  back  upon 
my  native  city  and  found  a  world  elsewhere.' 
'Twould  surprise  some  Englishmen  to  be  convinced 
of  it,  I  know,  but  indeed  there  is  a  world  elsewhere. 

75 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

'Tis  a  lovely  country,  Britain,  I  grant  you,  and 
would  be  my  choice  for  living  in,  when  all's  said 
and  done,  but  —  there's  livers  out  of  it." 

"  You  talk  as  if  'twere  only  the  leaving  England," 
said  the  other,  with  a  sorrowful  smile. 

Everell  was  silent  a  moment,  gazing  at  his  friend 
as  if  to  make  out  some  sort  of  puzzle  which  had 
repeatedly  baffled  him.  "  Sure,  'tis  more  than  I 
can  understand,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  For  that  lady  I 
have  the  profound  respect  and  admiration  which 
your  own  regard  for  her  declares  her  due ;  for  every 
lady  who  merits  them  I  have  respect  and  admira- 
tion :  but  this  power  of  love,  as  I  see  it  manifested 
in  you !  Give  me  leave,  on  the  score  of  our  friend- 
ship, to  confide  that  it  astonishes  me.  How  a  man 
can  fret  his  soul  over  a  woman,  be  miserable  at 
the  idea  of  parting  from  her,  risk  his  life  for  a 
meeting  with  her  —  for  though  we  find  it  the  safer 
course  now,  it  was  risking  our  lives  to  make  that 
dash  through  the  enemy's  lines  and  across  the  low- 
lands —  " 

"  Yet  you  risked  yours  readily  enough  for  mere 
friendship's  sake,"  said  Roughwood,  breaking  in 
upon  the  parenthesis,  and  so  wrecking  the  sentence 
for  ever. 

"  For  friendship's  sake,  yes! — brave  comradeship, 
good  company !  —  indeed,  yes,  and  who  would  not  ? 

76 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

But  for  love  of  a  girl !  —  why,  'tis  worthy  of  Don 
Quixote !  Forgive  me :  I  speak  only  my  mind." 

"  Lad,  lad,  what  is  friendship  in  comparison  with 
love  of  a  girl  —  real  love  of  a  girl  ?  You'll  sing 
another  tune  some  day." 

"  Never!  I  can  assure  you,  never.  I  know  not 
what  the  disease  is,  of  which  you  speak.  Certainly 
I'm  now  old  enough  to  have  had  it  if  I  ever  was 
to  be  attacked.  —  Not  that  I  don't  admire  the  beauty 
of  women,  and  commend  them  for  their  gentleness, 
—  when  they  are  gentle,  —  and  compassionate  their 
weakness  as  I  do  that  of  children,  and  find  pleasure 
in  their  smiling  faces,  and  soft  eyes,  and  tender 
blushes.  I  can  take  joy  enough  in  the  society  of 
a  pretty  creature  when  it  falls  my  lot,  and  count  it 
among  the  other  amenities  of  life.  I  value  the 
grace  and  goodness  that  high-minded  women  diffuse 
in  this  rough  world.  I  can  be  happy  with  sensible 
women,  and  amuse  myself  with  light  ones.  But  as 
to  being  what  you  call  in  love,  I  have  not  fallen  into 
that  strange  condition,  and  I  can  promise  you  I 
never  shall.  'Tis  not  in  my  constitution." 

"  The  day  will  come,  and  the  disease  be  all  the 
worse  for  being  late,  as  is  the  case  with  other 
ailments  delayed  beyond  the  usual  time." 

"  No,  sir :  and  as  for  hazarding  life  for  love  of 
a  woman,  1  must  tell  you  I  put  a  higher  value  upon 

77 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

life  than  that  implies.  You  understand  me  —  for 
love  of  a  woman.  To  save  a  woman  in  danger, 
to  serve  a  woman  in  any  way,  is  a  different  matter. 
But  merely  to  participate  in  the  absurdities  of  love, 
to  exchange  assurances  and  go  through  the  rest 
of  the  comedy,  —  will  you  have  me  believe  'tis 
worth  staking  such  a  gift  as  life  for?  Pretty  odds, 
egad!  —  life  against  love!  Love,  which  is  at  most 
an  incident,  against  life,  which  is  everything  and 
includes  all  incidents !  Love,  against  the  possibilities 
of  who  knows  how  many  years !  My  dear  Will !  — 
and  yet  you  say  I  am  rash." 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  a  convert  to  a  sense 
of  the  value  of  life,"  laughed  Will. 

"  Why,  you  don't  think  I  have  held  life  cheap 
because  I  have  sometimes  ventured  it  perhaps  with- 
out much  hesitation  ?  Be  sure  I  have  always  known 
what  I  was  doing.  There  has  always  been,  as  there 
is  now,  a  good  chance  of  winning  through.  I  have 
not  lagged  behind  the  boldest  in  a  fight,  'tis  true  —  " 

"  Except  in  a  retreat." 

"  Ah,  well,  it  broke  my  heart  to  fly  from  the 
field  at  Culloden.  When  I  thought  of  the  Prince 
and  his  hopes  —  when  I  perceived  that  all  was  ended 
in  the  whirling  snow  of  that  bleak  day  —  I  forgot 
myself.  For  a  moment  life  did  seem  of  little  worth ; 
not  that  I  ever  had  the  cause  so  much  at  heart,  but 

78 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

'twas  a  sad  end  of  a  brave  adventure,  and  I  felt 
what  was  passing  in  the  Prince's  mind.  I  tarried 
for  a  last  stroke  of  protest,  and  a  pity  it  is  it  fell 
on  no  better  object  than  a  dog  whose  only  business 
on  the  field  was  plunder,  —  for  I  don't  think  that 
fellow  was  a  true  soldier;  'twas  by  fool's  luck  he 
pinked  me  with  his  bayonet.  —  But,  deuce  take  it, 
where  was  I?  Ah,  yes.  If  I've  been  venturesome 
now  and  again,  I  have  never  felt  that  the  danger 
was  more  than  my  arm  and  eye  were  equal  to,  — 
and  that's  not  rashness,  Will.  A  man  is  a  fool 
who  doesn't  hold  life  precious.  If  it  isn't  precious, 
what's  the  merit  in  risking  it  for  a  good  cause? 
There  are  so  many  fine  things  to  see  and  do  when 
one  is  alive,  'tis  sheer  lunacy  to  place  them  all  in 
the  balance  against  a  trifle.  As  for  the  satisfaction 
of  looking  on  a  pretty  face  for  a  greater  or  less 
space  of  time,  —  no,  'tis  not  enough." 

"  Wait  till  you  see  the  right  face,  dear  lad,"  said 
Roughwood,  quietly. 

"  When  I  do,  dear  lad,  you  shall  hear  of  it." 
Upon  this  speech,  blithely  uttered,  Everell  filled 
their  two  glasses  with  wine  from  the  single  bottle 
they  had  ordered.  The  young  men  were  about  to 
pledge  each  other,  when  the  sudden  opening  of  the 
door  caused  them  to  look  sharply  in  that  direction, 
holding  their  glasses  midway  between  table  and  lips. 

79 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

A  young  lady  came  in  with  quick  steps.  At  sight 
of  the  gentlemen,  she  stopped  at  once,  and  looked 
sweetly  embarrassed.  Everell  and  Roughwood  rose 
to  their  feet,  and  bowed. 

"  Your  pardon,  sirs,"  said  the  intruder.  "  I  was 
—  I  wanted  to  see  Prudence."  Her  confusion,  to 
which  was  due  the  strangeness  of  this  remark, 
became  all  the  greater  on  her  perceiving  that 
strangeness,  and  she  blushed  deeply. 

"  Prudence?"  echoed  Everell,  politely.  "  If  you 
mean  a  lady  of  that  name,  we  have  not  seen  her 
here." 

"  She  is  my  waiting-woman,"  explained  Georgi- 
ana.  "  I  didn't  expect  to  find  her  in  this  room. 
She  is  in  the  kitchen,  no  doubt,  so  I  thought  of 
coming  to  this  room  and  ringing  the  bell.  I  thought 
there  might  be  nobody  here,  but  I  see  I  intrude." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Everell,  earnestly.  "  You 
arrive  just  in  time  to  provide  us  with  a  toast.  To 
those  sweet  eyes !  " 

He  was  about  to  drink,  when  the  new  wave  of 
crimson  that  swept  over  her  face  at  this  tenderly 
spoken  praise  of  her  visual  organs  engendered  a 
sudden  abashment  in  Everell.  "  I  have  been  too 
bold,  perhaps,"  he  said,  in  a  kind  of  vague  alarm. 
"  If  so,  I  entreat  your  pardon,  madam." 

She  looked  at  him  with  undisguised  interest,  and 
80 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

said,  slowly,  "  I  know  not.  If  you  are  bold,  there 
seems  a  respect  in  your  boldness,  —  a  gentleness 
and  a  consideration  —  "  She  stopped  short,  as  hav- 
ing gone  too  far.  A  slight  quiver  of  the  lip,  and 
a  certain  note  of  resentment  in  her  last  words,  com- 
bined with  the  words  themselves,  conveyed  a  mes- 
sage to  his  quick  wit. 

"  Madam,  some  one  has  offended  you,"  he  said, 
instantly  setting  down  his  wine,  and  walking  toward 
her  and  the  door.  "  Where  is  the  person?  " 

She  raised  her  hand  to  check  him,  frightened  at 
having  created  the  possibility  of  a  scene.  "  Nay, 
'tis  nothing!  Stay,  I  beg  you,  sir!  " 

"  Who  could  be  ungentle  to  one  who  is  all  gentle- 
ness ?  "  cried  Everell.  "  It  must  have  occurred  but 
now  —  they  must  be  near  —  in  this  inn.  In  what 
room?  Pray  tell  me." 

"  'Twas  nothing,  sir,  I  assure  you.  I  spoke  in 
a  moment  of  foolish  vexation.  I  was  merely  an- 
noyed at  their  talk.  I  had  no  right  to  be  —  no 
offence  was  meant." 

"  People  should  be  careful  that  offence  is  not 
given,  as  well  as  not  meant.  They  should  be  chas- 
tised for  their  carelessness,  if  for  nothing  more." 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  to  be  heard  of.  Two  of  them 
are  of  my  own  sex,  and  another  is  my  relation.  I 
had  no  real  cause  to  be  angry.  The  fault  is  all 

81 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

mine,  indeed.  I  have  been  much  in  the  wrong  to 
leave  them  so  rudely,  —  and  more  in  the  wrong  to 
speak  of  the  matter  to  a  stranger.  Pray  forget  all 
I  have  said,  sir,  —  pray  do,  as  you  are  a  gentle- 
man." 

He  had  been  on  the  point  of  answering  at  the 
end  of  each  sentence,  but  her  rapidity  of  speech 
prevented.  She  stopped  now,  with  a  look  that  con- 
tinued her  appeal  and  besought  an  assurance. 

"  As  I  am  a  gentleman,"  said  Everell,  "  I  will 
obey  your  least  command  —  or  your  greatest.  But 
as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  would  not  have  you  consider 
me  as  a  stranger.  I  grant  we  have  never  met  be- 
fore; but  such  true  and  gentle  eyes  as  yours  make 
friends  of  all  who  are  privileged  to  see  them.  As 
for  my  own  deserts,  I  can  plead  only  the  respect 
and  tenderness  your  looks  compel.  Believe  me, 
nothing  in  the  suddenness  of  this  meeting  can  make 
me  act  lightly  toward  you,  or  think  lightly  of  you, 
if  you  will  do  me  the  honour  to  count  me  among 
your  friends.  My  name  is  —  " 

A  loud  "  hem  "  from  Roughwood,  who  had  been 
looking  on  with  astonishment  at  his  friend's  earnest 
and  precipitate  demonstration  of  regard,  made 
Everell  stop  short.  Georgiana,  who  had  listened 
and  gazed  with  a  bewilderment  that  had  something 
exceedingly  novel  and  pleasant  in  it,  was  at  a  loss 

82 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

how  to  fill  the  pause  with  speech  or  act.  She  stood 
feeling  quite  incapable  and  delighted;  but  her  face 
betrayed  nothing  unusual  except  wonder,  which  very 
well  became  it.  Everell,  however,  did  not  leave  her 
long  suspended.  With  a  smile  at  his  own  predica- 
ment, he  resumed  : 

"  Egad,  I  have  a  choice  of  names  to  tell,  madam. 
For  certain  reasons,  I  don't  parade  my  true  name 
at  present.  —  And  yet  why  not  in  this  case  ?  I 
wouldn't  deal  in  falsehood  even  so  slight,  with  one 
whose  looks  declare  —  " 

But  Georgiana  had  suddenly  recalled  her  wits  to 
their  duty,  and  they  had  promptly  informed  her  how 
the  world  would  expect  a  young  lady  to  comport 
herself  in  such  a  situation.  She  quietly  inter- 
rupted : 

"  Nay,  sir,  I  haven't  asked  your  name,  and  there 
is  no  need  you  should  tell  it,  as  we  are  not  likely 
to  meet  again.  I  thank  you  for  your  willingness 
to  befriend  me,  and  your  offer  of  service.  —  There 
is  one  thing  you  may  do  for  me,  if  you  will." 

The  dejected  look  that  had  come  over  Everett's 
face  flashed  into  eagerness,  and  he  started  forward. 
"  Name  it,  madam!  " 

Georgiana  smiled,  but  said  as  sweetly  as  possible, 
to  compensate  in  some  measure  for  the  disappoint- 
ment she  foresaw  too  late,  "If  you  will  pull  the 

83 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

bell-rope  yonder,  I  shall  be  very  grateful  —  most 
grateful." 

Everell's  looks  groaned  for  him,  and  he  was  too 
far  taken  down  to  move.  Roughwood  laughed 
gently,  and  after  a  moment,  as  he  was  nearer  the 
bell-rope,  went  toward  it.  This  restored  Everell  to 
animation. 

"  Nay,  Will,  'tis  my  affair ! "  he  cried,  and,  step- 
ping between  his  friend  and  the  rope,  gave  it  so 
earnest  a  pull,  with  such  a  flourish,  that  anybody 
must  have  marvelled  to  see  how  serious  and  mag- 
nificent a  performance  the  pulling  of  a  bell-rope 
could  be  made. 

Georgiana  thanked  him,  and  stood  smiling,  with 
nothing  more  to  say.  Everell  found  himself  afflicted 
with  a  similar  lack,  or  confusion,  of  ideas,  as  well 
as  from  inability  to  take  his  eyes  off  the  young  lady. 
She  sought  relief  from  his  gaze  by  walking  to  the 
window.  Presently  the  maid  appeared,  in  response 
to  the  bell. 

"  Tell  my  waiting-woman  to  come  to  me,"  said 
Georgiana.  The  maid  having  gone,  another  space 
of  embarrassment  ensued,  until  Georgiana  was  fain 
to  break  the  silence  by  an  ill-simulated  cough.  This 
was  followed  by  a  profound  sigh  on  the  part  of 
Everell,  who  had  indeed  never  been  so  tongue-tied 
in  his  life.  Roughwood  meanwhile  stood  witness- 

84 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ing  with  amusement.  He  was  not  the  sort  of  man 
to  come  to  the  rescue  at  such  junctures  in  any  case, 
being  of  a  reserved  disposition,  and  he  was  certainly 
not  inclined  to  pity  the  discomposure  of  his  gay  and 
confident  friend. 

At  last  Prudence  made  her  appearance,  with 
officious  haste  and  solicitude.  "  What  is  it,  your 
la'ship  ?  "  Seeing  the  gentlemen,  she  turned  her 
glance  upon  them  before  her  mistress  could  answer. 
"  Oh,  lor !  "  she  cried,  and  stood  stock-still,  staring 
open-mouthed  at  Everell. 

"  Prudence!  what  do  you  mean?"  said  Georgi- 
ana. 

"  Oh,  lor !  "  repeated  the  girl.  "  The  gentleman 
with  the  heart!  Under  his  right  eye,  too!  The 
very  place !  " 

"  Prudence,  what  impertinence !  Have  you  lost 
your  senses  ?  —  Sir,  I  beg  pardon  for  the  poor  girl. 
I  don't  know  what  she  means,  but  no  harm,  I'm 
certain." 

"  Oh,  mistress,  your  la'ship,  come  away !  "  begged 
Prudence,  and,  taking  hold  of  Georgiana's  sleeve, 
essayed  to  draw  her  from  the  room.  In  astonish- 
ment, and  hope  of  learning  the  cause  of  this  extraor- 
dinary conduct,  Georgiana  made  a  brief  curtsey 
to  the  gentlemen,  and  followed  the  maid  out  to  the 
passage,  where  she  bade  her  explain  herself.  But 

85 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

Prudence  was  not  content  till  she  had  led  her  mis- 
tress into  the  opposite  entry  and  partly  up  the  stairs, 
whither  it  was  impossible  for  the  gaze  of  the  two 
gentlemen  to  reach  them. 

Everell,  quite  heedless  of  the  maid's  behaviour, 
had  started  forward  with  a  stifled  exclamation  of 
protest  when  Georgiana  had  moved  to  leave  them. 
He  had  stopped  before  arriving  at  the  door,  of 
course;  and  now  that  she  had  disappeared  from 
view  across  the  passage,  he  turned  to  Roughwood 
with  a  forlorn  countenance.  Roughwood,  however, 
was  in  no  mood  for  either  sympathy  or  rallying. 
Prudence's  demonstration  had  worked  its  full  effect 
upon  him,  and  his  brow  was  now  grave  with  con- 
cern. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  angelic  sweetness,  such 
divine  gentleness  ?  "  asked  Everell. 

"  Did  you  attend  to  what  her  waiting-woman 
said  ?  "  replied  Roughwood,  rather  sharply. 

"  Something  about  my  heart,  or  my  eye,  was  it 
not?  Sure,  my  heart  may  well  have  been  in  my 
eyes,  when  they  looked  on  that  lovely  creature." 

"  She  was  noticing  the  scar  on  your  face.  She 
has  heard  you  described,  no  doubt.  News  of  us 
has  travelled  along  the  road.  'Tis  the  work  of  the 
fellow  we  saw  yesterday,  I  dare  say.  How  often  did 
I  beg  you  to  cover  that  scar  with  a  patch  ?  " 

86 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Pshaw,  you  always  see  the  worst  possibility. 
The  boy  with  the  horses  has  been  talking  of  us  in 
the  kitchen,  that's  all.  He  has  invented  some  wild 
tale  of  us,  as  those  people  do  of  their  masters  and 
employers." 

"  We  had  best  order  fresh  horses,  and  pay  the 
reckoning;  and  meanwhile  finish  our  wine  —  it  may 
be  some  time  before  we  think  it  safe  to  stop  long 
at  another  inn." 

He  stepped  toward  the  bell-rope,  but  Everell 
again  intervened,  with  the  words: 

"  Nay,  if  any  report  of  us  has  gone  about,  a 
hasty  departure  is  the  very  thing  to  confirm  sus- 
picion. Nothing  in  haste:  —  my  dear  Will,  how 
often  have  I  heard  you  give  that  good  counsel." 

"  There  will  be  no  apparent  haste.  We  have 
dined  without  hurry." 

Everell  sighed,  and  looked  toward  the  door.  His 
face  brightened. 

"  But  if  we  wait  here  awhile,  we  may  —  don't 
you  know  —  perhaps  we  can  —  we  may  learn  why 
that  waiting-woman  cried  out  at  the  sight  of  my 
scar,  —  for,  look  you,  if  we  should  meet  the  mistress 
again,  no  doubt,  if  it  is  something  harmless  —  " 

"  At  least,"  said  Roughwood,  firmly,  "  I  will  ring 
and  give  orders  and  pay.  Even  if  you  still  feel 


87 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

inclined  to  tarry,  there's  no  harm  in  being  ready 
to  go." 

Everell  could  not  reasonably  dispute  this,  but  he 
was  so  little  inclined  to  take  a  hand  in  anything 
implying  an  immediate  departure,  that  he  left  all 
to  his  friend,  and  sat  looking  through  the  open  door 
while  Roughwood  gave  orders  and  paid  the  land- 
lady. Nothing  occurred  to  reward  his  watch  during 
the  first  few  minutes  that  passed  while  horses  were 
being  made  ready.  He  took  up  the  glass  that 
Roughwood  gently  pushed  to  his  hand,  and  drank 
down  the  wine  half-consciously.  He  dreaded  to  see 
the  horses  appear,  knowing  that  his  comrade  must 
have  his  way,  and  that  he  should  probably  never 
again  behold  the  vision  that  had  suddenly  gladdened 
his  sight  and  warmed  his  heart. 

But  meanwhile  there  had  been  activity  in  the  yard, 
and  now  there  was  a  great  stamping  of  hoofs  and 
rattling  of  harness,  accompanied  by  the  ejaculations 
peculiar  to  men  who  have  to  do  with  horses.  Rough- 
wood  went  to  the  door  and  looked  toward  the  yard. 

"  'Tis  a  coach  and  six  making  ready  to  depart," 
he  said.  "  And  there's  a  post-chaise,  too.  We  are 
not  the  only  people  who  are  about  to  leave  this  inn." 

Everell  was  by  his  side  in  an  instant.  No  doubt, 
then,  the  young  lady  would  be  leaving.  A  fat 
coachman  was  on  the  box  of  the  private  vehicle, 

88 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

and  the  postilion  was  in  readiness  to  mount  before 
the  chaise,  but  the  passengers  of  neither  were  yet 
visible.  There  came,  however,  from  across  the  pas- 
sage the  sound  of  well-bred  voices,  in  easy,  half- 
jesting  tones,  and  then  appeared  a  sumptuously 
charming  lady  on  the  arm  of  a  handsome,  discon- 
tented-looking gentleman;  a  second  couple,  not  as 
distinguished  in  appearance;  and  the  young  lady 
who  had  so  fired  Everell's  fancy.  The  party  moved 
toward  the  conveyances,  Georgiana  having  no  share 
in  their  mirthful  talk.  She  had  cast  a  quick  glance 
at  the  two  young  gentlemen  while  her  face  was 
toward  them,  but  had  given  no  sign  of  acquaintance. 
A  second  procession,  consisting  of  the  waiting- 
women  and  men  servants  with  the  smaller  impedi- 
menta, followed  in  the  footsteps  of  the  gentlefolk, 
and  Georgiana's  figure  was  almost  lost  to  view  in 
the  crowd  about  the  carriages,  which  was  now 
swelled  by  the  people  of  the  inn. 

"Which  way  can  they  be  going?  Who  is  she? 
If  I  could  but  learn  where  she  lives !  "  said  Everell. 

"  The  knowledge  would  serve  you  little  at  present, 
I  fear,"  replied  Roughwood. 

"  Those  are  the  people  whose  talk  offended  her. 
One  is  her  relation,  she  said.  By  Jupiter,  I  must 
find  out!" 

Ere  his  friend  could  stop  him  Everell  had  started 
89 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

for  the  yard,  as  if  upon  his  own  business,  with  some 
general  idea  of  questioning  the  inn  folk.  Going 
near  the  travellers,  he  heard  the  two  strange  ladies 
and  one  of  the  gentlemen  discussing  how  the  party 
should  be  divided  between  the  coach  and  the  chaise. 
The  taller  gentleman  was  speaking  to  the  landlady. 
The  word  "  baggage  "  caught  Everell's  ear,  and  he 
stood  still. 

"  There  are  three  trunks  following  by  the 
wagon,"  the  gentleman  was  saying,  "  to  be  left 
here.  You  will  have  Timmins  the  carter  fetch  them 
to  Foxwell  Court  immediately." 

Everell  needed  to  hear  no  more.  The  party  was 
evidently  bound  for  Foxwell  Court,  which  must  be 
near  if  the  baggage  following  thus  far  by  regular 
wagon  was  to  be  conveyed  the  rest  of  the  way  by 
a  local  carter.  And  of  course  the  place  must  be 
off  the  route  of  the  stage-wagons  —  that  is  to  say, 
off  the  great  highway.  Three  trunks  would  have 
been  small  luggage  for  so  numerous  a  party  of  such 
quality;  but  Everell  saw  baggage  on  the  coach,  as 
well.  This,  in  fact,  belonged  to  Lady  Strange  and 
her  party.  That  about  which  he  hajl  heard  direc- 
tions given  was  of  Georgiana  and  her  uncle. 

Everell  was  on  the  edge  of  the  little  crowd,  and 
he  turned  about  to  look  toward  the  midst  of  it, 
where  he  had  last  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  young 

90 


"'SAVE    YOURSELF,'    SHE    WHISPERED,    RAPIDLY.      'YOU    ARE 
IN    DANGER    HERE.'  " 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

lady.  To  his  wonder,  he  now  beheld  her  close  in 
front  of  him,  her  eyes  meeting  his. 

"  Save  yourself,"  she  whispered,  rapidly.  "  You 
are  in  danger  here.  A  man  is  up-stairs  who  is 
hunting  you  —  one  Jeremiah  Filson.  For  heaven's 
sake,  fly  while  you  may!  " 

Before  he  could  answer,  she  had  slipped  back 
through  the  crowd,  and  was  in  her  former  place, 
near  the  two  older  ladies.  The  attention  of  the 
lesser  folk  was  upon  the  London  people,  who  were 
concerned  only  with  one  another,  and  the  tall  gen- 
tleman was  still  engaged  with  the  woman  of  the  inn. 
No  one  had  observed  Georgiana. 


91 


CHAPTER   V. 

RISKS 

AT  last  the  tall  gentleman  turned  to  his  friends. 
Everell  saw  Georgiana  disappear  into  the  coach 
with  the  older  ladies ;  saw  the  two  gentlemen  spring 
into  the  chaise,  after  casting  doles  to  the  yard  serv- 
ants; saw  the  two  maids  established  upon  outside 
seats,  the  valets  mounted,  the  postilion  up  before 
the  chaise,  the  coachman  gather  his  reins  and  whip; 
saw  the  procession  move  off,  with  Caleb  at  the  head 
to  show  the  way,  the  coach  next,  the  chaise  follow- 
ing, and  the  trim  London  lackey  riding  behind  all 
the  rest.  Everell  followed  as  far  as  to  the  door, 
where  still  stood  Roughwood.  The  coach  had  al- 
ready turned  down  the  High  Street. 

"  She's  gone,"  said  he.  "  But  not  far  —  only  to 
Fox  well  Court." 

"Pray,  where  and  what  is  Foxwell  Court?" 
asked  Roughwood,  leading  him  by  the  arm  into 
the  parlour. 

"  I  know  not,  but  'tis  easily  learned." 


"  No  doubt,  but  we  shall  do  better  to  restrain  our 
curiosity.  I  trust  we  shall  have  nothing  more  to 
excite  it  —  or  to  tempt  you  to  mingle  unnecessarily 
in  miscellaneous  crowds  from  inn  kitchens." 

"  My  dear  Will,"  cried  Everell,  "  my  going  among 
that  crowd  was  a  stroke  of  heaven-sent  luck.  I 
received  a  most  valuable  warning  —  and  from  her, 
too!  Think  of  it,  those  sweet  lips,  those  heavenly 
eyes,  that  —  " 

"Warning?     What  do  you  mean?" 

Everell  told  him. 

"  H'm!  "  said  Roughwood.  "  That  explains  her 
maid's  conduct.  Somebody  had  described  you  to  the 
maid  —  somebody  now  up-stairs." 

"  Yes,  and  the  maid  no  sooner  tells  her  of  it  than 
she  takes  the  first  opportunity  to  put  us  on  our 
guard,  at  the  risk  even  of  her  good  name.  What 
divine  compassion !  What  —  " 

"  And  the  somebody  up-stairs  ?  No  doubt  your 
acquaintance  of  yesterday.  Why,  he  may  chance 
upon  us  at  any  moment,  and  give  the  alarm.  And, 
if  he  has  mentioned  you  to  the  maid,  why  not  to 
a  whole  kitchenful  of  people?  'Tis  high  time  in- 
deed we  were  out  of  this  place.  How  slow  they  are 
with  the  horses!  We  should  be  in  another  county 
by  sunset." 

"  Ay,  dear  Will,  you  should  —  and  must." 
93 


"/  should?  We  should.  Here  are  the  horses 
at  last.  Come."  Rough  wood  seized  the  cloak- 
bags. 

"Nay,  Will,  I  — I  will  follow  a  little  later," 
said  Everell,  taking  his  own  piece  of  luggage. 

"  Later  ?  Are  you  mad  ?  —  Come,  come,  no  non- 
sense, Charles.  You  will  go  with  me,  of  course." 

"  From  this  inn,  certainly.  But  from  this  neigh- 
bourhood not  for  a  —  day  or  two.  I  mention  it 
now,  so  that  the  boy  need  hear  no  discussion  between 
us.  I  will  ride  with  you  a  mile  or  so,  then  take 
my  own  way  afoot.  The  boy,  of  course,  must  keep 
his  horses  together.  —  I  will  follow  you,  I  say :  I 
can  find  your  man  Budge.  Let  his  house  be  our 
rendezvous,  —  I  can  find  it  from  your  description, 
—  and  of  course  I  will  appear  thereabouts  only 
at  night.  Instruct  him  to  be  on  the  watch  for  me. 
If  he  can  sail  before  I  arrive,  make  good  your  own 
escape,  and  bid  him  expect  me  on  his  return.  That 
is  all,  I  think ;  and  now  to  horse." 

"  But,  my  dear  lad,  —  my  dear,  dear  lad,  — 
what  folly  is  this?  Hear  reason;  you  must  be 
guided  by  me.  You  know  not  what  you  would 
risk  —  " 

"  No  more  than  I've  risked  before  now,  and  for 
no  such  cause,  either.  'Tis  settled,  Will,  I  intend 
to  stay  hereabouts  till  I've  seen  that  young  lady 

94 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

again.  Come,  the  boy  is  waiting-  with  the  horses. 
'Tis  you  now  that  delays  our  going." 

"  Charles,  listen  to  me !  —  Rash !  foolish !  mad !  " 

"  No.  —  I  said  you  should  hear  when  I  saw  the 
right  face,  Will.  I  declare  I've  seen  it  —  and  must 
see  it  again,  whatever  be  the  cost  or  the  conse- 
quence." 

In  another  minute  they  were  on  horseback,  mov- 
ing down  the  High  Street.  The  coach  and  chaise 
had  started  in  the  same  direction,  but  were  now  out 
of  sight.  Everell  hoped  to  come  nearly  up  to  them, 
that  he  might  see  where  they  left  the  highroad. 
But  even  after  he  had  cleared  the  town  and  beheld 
a  straight  stretch  of  road  far  ahead,  he  found  no 
sign  of  the  vehicles  in  which  he  was  interested. 
He  inferred  that  they  must  have  turned  off  through 
one  of  the  streets  of  the  town,  which  was  indeed  the 
case. 

Meanwhile,  Roughwood,  full  of  sadness  and  mis- 
giving, had  kept  up  his  usual  vigilance  so  far  as 
to  watch  their  guide  for  possible  signs  of  having 
heard  any  such  talk  at  the  inn  as  had  enabled  the 
maid  Prudence  to  identify  Everell.  But  the  boy 
did  not  regard  either  of  the  gentlemen  at  all  sus- 
piciously; he  showed  no  curiosity  or  interest,  and 
Roughwood  was  assured  that,  if  Everell's  enemy 
had  spoken  of  them  at  the  inn,  this  lad  had  not  been 

95 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

a  listener.  Such,  as  the  reader  knows,  was  the  case, 
for  Mr.  Filson  had  thus  far  confided  his  story  to 
nobody  in  the  house  but  Prudence,  and  she  had  ex- 
cluded herself  from  the  conversation  of  the  kitchen 
under  a  sense  of  affront,  until  summoned  by  her 
mistress.  Georgiana,  upon  hearing  the  cause  of  her 
alarm  at  the  sight  of  the  young  stranger,  had  put 
the  girl  under  the  strictest  commands  of  secrecy, 
and  had  kept  her  in  attendance  afterward,  quietly 
returning  to  Foxwell  and  his  friends  as  they  were 
making  ready  to  depart. 

While  he  still  rode  with  his  friend,  Everell  al- 
lowed no  mention  of  his  resolve  or  of  Foxwell 
Court  to  escape  him,  for  he  knew  that  the  guide, 
whom  Roughwood  would  dismiss  at  the  end  of  that 
stage,  would  be  returning  with  the  horses,  and  might 
be  interrogated  by  their  enemy,  who  by  that  time 
would  probably  have  learned  of  their  short  stay 
at  the  inn.  On  the  other  hand,  Everell  devoted  some 
conversation  to  the  purpose  of  deceiving  the  boy 
as  to  his  reasons  and  intentions  in  leaving  his  friend 
and  his  saddle  as  he  was  about  to  do.  Observing 
a  house  among  some  trees  upon  a  hill,  he  pointed 
it  out  to  Roughwood  as  the  residence  of  a  friend 
whom  he  meant  to  surprise  with  a  brief  visit.  Hav- 
ing spoken  to  this  effect,  as  if  the  matter  had  been 
previously  understood  between  them,  he  added 

96 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

that,  in  order  to  make  the  surprise  complete,  he 
would  approach  the  house  on  foot  among  the  trees, 
and  would  therefore  take  leave  of  Roughwood,  for 
the  time,  in  the  road.  He  could  depend  upon  the 
gentleman  he  was  about  to  visit  to  furnish  him  with 
conveyance  to  the  next  town,  whence  he  would  fol- 
low Roughwood  by  post-horse.  This  much  having 
been  said  in  the  guide's  hearing,  Everell  pulled  up 
his  horse,  and,  Roughwood  doing  likewise,  the  two 
fugitives  held  a  whispered  conference  upon  the  de- 
tails of  their  next  reunion. 

To  the  last,  Roughwood  tried,  by  voice  and  look, 
to  dissuade  his  comrade  from  this  rash  and  sudden 
deviation  from  their  original  plans,  but  vainly. 
They  made  a  redivision  of  their  money,  for  each  in 
his  heart  felt  that  some  time  must  elapse  ere  they 
should  —  if  ever  —  be  fellow  travellers  again. 
Then  Everell  slid  from  his  horse,  slung  his  cloak- 
bag  over  his  shoulder,  gave  a  quick  pressure  of  his 
friend's  hand,  and  a  whispered  "  God  speed  you, 
dear  lad !  "  in  exchange  for  a  silent  and  protesting 
farewell  in  the  other's  clouding  eyes;  and  stood 
alone  in  the  highway.  He  waited  till  the  horses 
disappeared  with  a  last  wave  of  Roughwood's  hand, 
around  a  turning:  he  then  faced  directly  about, 
and  set  off  with  long  and  rapid  strides. 

His  pace  very  soon  brought  him  back  to  the  town 
97 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

he  had  so  recently  left.  Instead  of  going  as  far 
as  to  their  former  inn,  he  sought  out  one  of  hum- 
bler appearance,  near  the  beginning  of  the  street. 
Here  he  left  his  cloak-bag,  for  already  in  his  brief 
walk  he  had  experienced  the  stares  of  wonder  nat- 
urally drawn  by  a  gentleman  who  carried  at  the 
same  time  a  sword  at  his  side  and  a  cloak-bag  at 
his  shoulder.  He  went  into  a  barber's  shop,  where, 
as  he  had  used  his  razor  that  morning,  and  very 
little  sign  of  beard  had  become  visible  in  the  mean- 
time, his  order  for  shaving  created  in  the  barber's 
mind  an  impression  that  he  must  be  an  extremely 
luxurious  gentleman  in  spite  of  his  threadbare 
clothes,  —  probably  a  lord  in  misfortune.  Everell 
easily  set  the  barber  talking  about  all  the  estates  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  thus,  without  seeming  to 
have  more  design  in  regard  to  Foxwell  Court  than 
to  a  dozen  other  places,  elicited  the  information  that 
that  house  was  eight  miles  away  on  the  road  to 
Burndale. 

Returning  to  the  inn  where  he  had  left  his  bag, 
he  told  the  landlord  he  was  bound  for  Burndale, 
and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  accomplish  part  of 
the  journey  that  afternoon,  in  order  to  arrive  there 
betimes  the  next  day.  He  bargained  for  a  horse 
and  guide  to  take  him  seven  or  eight  miles  on  the 
way,  and  leave  him  at  some  place  where  he  could 

98 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

pass  the  night  and  obtain  conveyance  on  to  Burndale 
in  the  morning.  In  this  way,  without  mentioning 
Foxwell  Court,  he  contrived  that  he  should  be  set 
down  in  its  vicinity  and  yet  have  it  supposed  that 
his  destination  was  far  beyond. 

He  had  so  far  trusted  to  luck  and  his  quickness 
of  sight  to  avoid  confrontation  with  the  enemy 
who,  as  he  could  not  doubt,  was  close  enough  at 
hand.  But  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  he 
at  last  rode  out  of  the  town  in  the  direction  of 
Burndale :  he  believed  that,  whatever  inquiries 
might  be  made  upon  the  discovery  that  he  had  passed 
through  the  town,  his  traces  were  sufficiently  con- 
fused, one  set  leading  southward  after  his  friend, 
and  the  other  leading  to  Burndale,  a  good  distance 
beyond  Foxwell  Court.  So  he  rode  forward  with 
his  new  guide,  in  as  great  security  of  mind  as  he 
had  enjoyed  in  months. 

The  road  lay  at  first  between  fields,  and  here  and 
there  great  trees  stretched  their  boughs  shelteringly 
over  it.  Sometimes  green  banks  rose  on  one  hand 
or  both,  and  at  a  certain  place  a  stream  joined  the 
road  and  went  singing  along  in  its  company  for 
half  a  mile.  Then  the  way  emerged  upon  an  open 
common,  which  undulated  on  one  side  in  rounded 
waves  of  heather  till  the  purple  mass  met  the  gray 
sky,  and  on  the  other  side  to  the  border  of  a  wood. 

99 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

But  presently  Everell  was  again  in  cultivated  coun- 
try, with  stone  farm-buildings  set  now  and  then  upon 
lawny  slopes  among  the  fields. 

One  great  house,  of  which  the  chimneys  rose  in 
the  midst  of  trees,  and  which  was  to  be  approached 
by  a  driveway  of  some  hundreds  of  yards  from  a 
gate  and  lodge  at  the  roadside,  held  Everell's  atten- 
tion for  a  moment.  The  guide  volunteered  the  in- 
formation that  this  was  Thornby  Hall.  Everell 
repeated  the  name  carelessly,  looked  a  second  time, 
and  thought  no  more  of  it.  Had  he  been  able  to 
foresee  the  future,  he  would  have  given  the  place 
a  longer  inspection. 

Two  or  three  miles  more  brought  them  to  a  vil- 
lage. The  guide  said  that  here  was  the  only  public 
house  of  entertainment  in  the  near  neighbourhood, 
and  that  if  he  went  farther  he  was  in  danger  of 
getting  benighted  on  his  return.  Nothing  could 
have  suited  Everell's  own  plan  better  than  this  clear 
hint.  He  dissembled  his  content,  however,  and 
put  on  a  frown  of  disappointment  as  he  gazed  at 
the  mere  ale-house  —  a  low  and  longish  building 
whose  unevenness  of  line  betokened  its  antiquity  — 
before  which  the  boy  had  drawn  up.  Everell  feigned 
a  reluctant  yielding  to  necessity;  dismounted  pee- 
vishly, and  showed  a  petulant  resignation  in  asking 


100 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  rustic-looking  landlord  who  appeared  at  the 
door  if  a  decent  room  was  to  be  had  for  the  night. 

The  landlord,  a  drowsy  little  old  man,  who  was 
too  dull,  too  humble-minded,  or  too  philosophical 
to  resent  any  doubt  of  the  excellence  of  his  house, 
replied  that  the  best  room  was  at  his  honour's  serv- 
ice. Whereupon  Everell,  for  the  hearing  of  his 
guide,  inquired  urgently  about  the  possibility  of 
getting  a  horse  in  the  morning  to  carry  him  to 
Burndale.  Being  assured  on  this  point,  also,  Ever- 
ell dismissed  the  guide,  and  had  his  single  piece 
of  baggage  taken  into  his  room,  which  proved  to 
be  not  merely  the  best  room,  but  the  only  room, 
properly  so-called,  in  addition  to  the  long  apartment 
which  served  as  kitchen,  bar,  living-room  of  the 
family,  and  general  clubroom  of  the  village;  the 
chambers  up-stairs  being  mere  lofts  under  the  roof. 

Everell  ordered  a  supper  of  bacon  and  eggs,  wnich 
were  cooked  by  the  landlord's  fat,  middle-aged 
daughter,  and  served  by  the  old  man  himself.  Turn- 
ing quite  reconciled  to  his  accommodations  as  soon 
as  his  guide  had  left  the  scene,  Everell  drew  the 
host  into  conversation,  and,  as  the  old  fellow  proved 
to  be  an  amiable  and  honest  soul,  even  in  the  matter 
of  his  charges,  the  traveller  was  shortly  in  posses- 
sion of  as  many  facts,  legends,  and  reports  concern- 
ing the  gentry  of  this  and  adjacent  parishes  as  his 

101 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

host  had  accumulated  in  years.  All  this  information 
went  through  Everell's  mind  as  through  a  sieve, 
with  the  exception  of  the  circumstance  that  the  old 
red-brick  place,  with  the  ivy  and  the  gables,  crown- 
ing the  slope  at  the  right,  with  a  park  behind  it, 
which  old  red-brick  place  his  honour  would  have 
seen  had  he  ridden  a  little  farther  on,  and  would 
see  when  he  rode  that  way  in  the  morning,  was 
Foxwell  Court.  This  piece  of  news  did  not  come 
out  till  Everell  had  finished  his  meal,  and  he  might 
have  learned  a  vast  deal  about  the  Foxwells,  for  the 
old  man's  face  brightened  as  if  at  the  opening  of  a 
fresh  and  copious  subject;  but  the  young  gentleman, 
with  his  usual  precipitancy,  rose  and  declared  his 
intention  of  stretching  his  legs.  Though  he  had 
cautiously  refrained  from  being  the  first  to  mention 
Foxwell  Court,  he  no  sooner  knew  where  it  was, 
and  how  near,  than  he  felt  himself  drawn  as  by 
enchantment  in  its  direction. 

As  he  stepped  out  upon  the  green  space  before 
the  inn,  a  post-chaise  came  rattling  by  at  a  round 
speed.  It  was  empty,  and  Everell  recognized  it  as 
the  one  which  had  accompanied  the  coach  from  the 
inn-yard  that  day :  it  was  now  returning  from  Fox- 
well  Court,  as  it  ought  to  have  been  doing  sooner. 
The  postilion,  no  doubt,  had  wasted  time  in  the 
sociability  of  the  servants'  hall,  and  was  now  making 

102 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

his  horses  fly  to  avoid  belatement.  He  stared  a 
moment  at  Everell,  and  was  gone.  Thinking  noth- 
ing of  this  meeting,  so  brief  and  casual,  Everell 
walked  rapidly  off  toward  Foxwell  Court. 

The  sun  had  come  out  toward  evening,  and  now 
shone  bright  on  the  weathercock  and  spire  of  the 
parish  church  that  stood  embowered  some  distance 
from  the  road,  on  Everett's  left,  as  he  proceeded. 
A  short  walk  brought  him  to  the  end  of  the  village 
street  of  low  gray  cottages  in  their  small  gardens. 
Thence  a  little  bridge  bore  him  across  a  stream  that 
came  murmuring  down  through  a  large  field  from 
the  wooded  land  Northward.  Looking  ahead  on 
that  side  of  the  road,  he  perceived  the  curved  gables 
of  an  old  house  of  time-dulled  brick  partly  clad  in 
ivy.  It  stood  rather  proudly  at  the  top  of  a  broad 
slope  and  against  a  background  of  woods  or  park, 
its  upper  windows  ablaze  with  the  sunlight.  The 
lower  part  of  the  building  was  hidden  by  the  walls 
of  a  forecourt  and  by  a  dilapidated-looking  gate- 
house which  dominated  them.  At  the  near  end  of 
the  mansion  appeared  a  shapeless  remnant  of  broken 
tower  and  wing,  ruinous  and  abandoned:  from 
these  ruins  a  wall  extended  to  the  verge  of  a  slight 
precipice  and,  there  turning  at  a  right  angle,  ran 
back  to  the  wood.  Over  the  top  of  this  wall  were 
visible  the  signs  of  a  neglected  garden  or  orchard. 

103 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

The  further,  or  Western,  end  of  the  house  was 
flanked  by  trees  and  greenery,  but  the  slope  of  rich 
green  turf  which  descended  in  one  long  and  gentle 
swell  from  the  forecourt  to  the  road  was  clear  lawn. 
This  great  convex  space  of  green  was  separated 
from  the  adjacent  fields,  and  from  the  road,  by  a 
rude  hedge  of  briar.  Everell,  having  gazed  a  few 
moments  from  the  bridge,  walked  on  along  the  road, 
intending,  if  possible,  to  describe  the  circuit  of  the 
house  at  a  respectful  distance  before  attempting  any 
near  approach.  He  came  to  the  barred  opening  in 
the  hedge  through  which  the  private  road  led  from 
the  highway  to  the  gate-house  of  the  forecourt,  but 
he  let  only  his  eyes  travel  up  the  curving  way.  As 
the  hedge  grew  on  lower  ground  beyond  the  road- 
side ditch,  Everell  had  the  house  in  full  sight  while 
he  was  passing.  He  came  at  length  to  where  the 
hedge  turned  for  its  ascent,  and  here  he  found  that 
a  narrow  lane  ran  between  it  and  the  field  adjoining. 

He  was  speedily  over  the  barred  gate  that  shut 
this  lane  from  the  road.  Ascending  toward  the 
park  behind  the  house,  he  frequently  lost  sight  of 
the  latter  by  reason  of  the  height  of  the  hedge,  which 
was,  moreover,  accompanied  on  that  side  by  a  line 
of  oaks.  As  it  came  to  the  level  of  the  forecourt, 
the  hedge  was  interrupted  by  a  gate.  Looking 
across  the  bars  of  this,  Everell  could  see  not  only  the 

104 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

house  but,  nearer  to  him,  stables  and  other  out- 
buildings skilfully  concealed  by  shrubbery  and  trees. 
His  observation  from  the  gateway  being  rewarded 
by  nothing  to  the  purpose,  and  that  he  might  make 
the  most  use  of  the  remaining  light,  Everell  went 
on  through  the  lane  toward  the  park,  to  which  he 
now  saw  it  gave  access.  Passing  the  trees  which 
prevented  his  view  of  the  Western  end  of  the  house, 
he  came  abreast  of  a  terrace  which  lay  between  the 
North  front  and  the  park,  and  which  he  could  see 
across  the  hedge  when  he  stood  on  tiptoe.  A  few 
more  steps,  and  a  vault  over  a  five-barred  gate, 
took  him  into  the  park  itself,  from  the  shades  of 
which  —  for  it  was  not  kept  clear  of  small  growth, 
and  offered  plentiful  covert  of  bush  and  bracken 
and  other  brush  —  he  gazed  upon  the  house  as  he 
turned  and  strolled  Eastward. 

The  balustrade  of  the  terrace  was  broken  here 
and  there;  and  the  mansion  itself,  where  the  ivy 
allowed  its  surface  to  be  seen,  was  weather-worn 
and  unrepaired.  Yet,  by  virtue  of  its  design  and 
situation,  the  house  had  a  magnificence.  This,  how- 
ever, did  not  much  affect  Everell  at  the  time,  sen- 
sitive though  he  was  to  such  impressions.  What 
concerned  him  was,  that  he  saw  no  face  at  any 
window,  nor  heard  any  voice  from  any  part  of  the 
mansion  except  below  stairs. 

105 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

To  complete  the  circuit  of  the  place,  in  quest  of 
any  discovery  to  aid  his  purpose,  he  walked  on  till 
he  came  to  a  deep,  thick-wooded  glen  that  cut  into 
the  park  from  the  grounds  about  the  ruined  Eastern 
end  of  the  house.  Through  this  ran  the  stream 
which,  subsequently  traversing  the  great  field  be- 
tween the  house  and  the  village,  crossed  under  the 
bridge.  Everell  turned  along  the  crest  of  the  glen- 
side,  and  thus  in  a  few  steps  emerged,  through  a 
gate  in  the  stone  wall,  upon  the  wild  garden  or 
orchard,  of  which  he  had  seen  signs  from  the  road. 
It  was  a  neglected  place,  evidently  not  now  resorted 
to.  Steps  descended  to  it  from  the  terrace,  yet  it 
was  not  so  much  lower  but  that  Everell  could  glance 
along  the  terrace  and  the  North  front  of  the  house. 
He  leaned  against  a  vacant  stone  pedestal  to  rest 
and  consider. 

The  sun  had  set,  and,  far  beyond  the  length  of 
the  terrace,  the  undulating  fields  and  moorland,  and 
the  distant  darkening  mountains,  was  a  sky  of  red 
and  gold.  But  Everell  had  eyes  for  nothing  but 
the  old  mansion,  which  was  to  him  a  case  holding 
the  loveliest  jewel  he  had  ever  beheld.  As  the  dusk 
came  on,  light  appeared  at  some  of  the  lower  win- 
dows; a  few  notes  of  laughter  and  other  vocal 
sounds  gave  evidence  of  life.  But  nobody  came 
forth.  Everell  dared  not  hope  to  catch  a  glimpse 

106 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

of  the  admired  one  that  evening.  He  was  at  last 
sensible  that  night  had  fallen.  All  the  colour  had 
gone  out  of  the  West,  and  stars  had  appeared. 

He  would  have  moved,  to  warm  himself  by  walk- 
ing, but  that  two  of  the  upper  windows  began  to 
glow.  Were  they  her  windows  ?  He  watched  with 
a  beating  heart,  stilling  even  the  sound  of  his  breath. 
But  several  minutes  passed  without  any  manifesta- 
tion even  of  a  shadow  momentarily  darkening  the 
panes.  The  light  vanished.  No  doubt  she  had  gone 
to  bed,  fatigued  with  the  journey  of  the  day.  Cer- 
tainly they  must  be  her  windows,  for  the  others 
of  the  party  were  less  likely  to  retire  so  early.  Ever- 
ell  heaved  a  sigh,  and  threw  a  kiss  at  the  windows. 
Of  a  sudden  he  was  uncomfortably  chilly :  he  be- 
stirred himself,  wished  he  had  thought  of  bringing 
his  cloak,  and  started  off,  as  much  upon  a  feeling 
that  he  could  better  meditate  a  course  of  procedure 
while  walking  as  upon  the  impulse  to  set  his  blood 
in  motion.  But  so  far  was  he  from  any  desire  of 
going  back  to  his  inn  that,  without  much  conscious 
choice  in  the  matter,  he  took  a  quite  different  direc- 
tion, and  followed  the  top  of  the  glen-side  into  the 
park. 

He  had  been  moving  at  a  rapid  pace  for  several 
minutes  before  he  gave  any  heed  to  his  whereabouts. 
He  had  been  guided  safely  among  bush,  bracken, 

107 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

and  the  great  trunks  of  the  trees  by  that  unconscious 
observation  for  which  in  those  days  there  was  no 
better  name  than  instinct.  He  now  saw  —  for  in 
many  places  the  trees  were  not  too  close  together 
for  the  admission  of  some  light  from  stars  and  sky 
—  that  he  had  penetrated  a  good  distance  into  the 
park,  and  had  left  the  course  of  the  glen.  As  he 
stood  gazing  into  the  gloom,  wondering  how  accu- 
rately he  could  retrace  his  steps,  he  heard  the  loud 
crack  of  a  gun,  fired  seemingly  about  two  furlongs 
away. 

"  Poachers,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  thought. 

He  stepped  forward  to  the  edge  of  an  open  place, 
which  sloped  down  gradually  to  a  stream  —  doubt- 
less the  same  that  threaded  the  glen,  or  a  tributary. 
Beyond  this  water  the  corresponding  ascent  was 
clear  of  trees  for  perhaps  a  hundred  yards.  Down 
that  side  of  the  glade  a  dark  figure  was  approach- 
ing so  swiftly,  and  in  such  manner  else,  that  Everell 
knew  it  as  that  of  a  man  running  for  his  life. 
There  is  a  difference  so  pronounced  as  to  be  plain 
even  in  twilight  and  afar  between  the  attitude  of  a 
man  who  runs  in  pursuit,  and  that  of  a  man  who 
runs  from  pursuit;  and  again,  in  either  case,  be- 
tween that  of  one  who  runs  in  accordance  with,  and 
that  of  one  who  runs  in  opposition  to,  the  law. 

Having  no  desire  to  interfere  with  a  rogue  who 
108 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

had  just  fired  at,  or  been  fired  at  by,  somebody's 
gamekeeper,  or  at  best  had  taken  a  forbidden  shot 
at  somebody's  game,  Everell  concealed  himself 
among  some  bracken  of  a  man's  height.  He  waited 
a  few  minutes,  hoping  to  be  informed  by  his  ears 
when  the  man  should  have  passed.  But  he  heard 
neither  footfall  nor  panting,  nor  any  noise  of  pur- 
suit. 

Supposing  that  the  fellow  had  changed  his  course 
at  the  stream,  Everell  stepped  out  from  the  bracken. 
He  was  just  in  time  to  confront  a  broad  figure 
striding  toward  him.  Ere  Everell  thought  of  self- 
defence,  the  newcomer  uttered  an  ejaculation,  and 
sprang  aside  with  something  upraised  in  the  air. 
The  next  thing  that  Everell  knew  —  for  one  rarely 
feels  a  knock-down  blow  on  the  head  from  such 
an  instrument  as  the  butt-end  of  a  gun  —  he  was 
lying  among  the  bracken  from  which  he  had  re- 
cently come  forth. 


109 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THANKS 

AT  his  side  knelt  the  man  who  had  felled  him, 
and  who  was  endeavouring  to  ascertain  if  he  still 
breathed.  Everell  essayed  to  grasp  his  sword-hilt, 
but  the  other  caught  his  wrist  with  a  powerful  hand. 

"  Softly,  master,"  said  a  gruff  but  apparently 
pacific  voice.  "  'Tis  all  a  mistake,  belike,  and,  if 
so  be  it  is,  I  ask  your  pardon  humbly.  I  make  you 
out  to  be  a  gentleman,  sir,  and  in  that  case  not  what 
I  supposed.  But  you  appeared  so  sudden,  I  took 
it  you'd  been  lying  in  wait  for  me.  I  struck  out 
first,  and  thought  afterwards,  which  was  maybe  the 
wrong  way  about.  So  I  stayed  to  see  what  hurt 
was  done,  and  lend  a  hand  if  need  be.  —  Nay,  you'll 
find  I  haven't  touched  your  pockets,  sir." 

Forgetting  the  injury  in  the  chivalrous  after- 
conduct  —  for  nine  men  out  of  ten  would  have  run 
away,  whether  the  blow  had  been  mistaken  or  not 
—  Everell  replied  as  heartily  as  he  could : 

"  Why,  friend,  you  seem  a  very  brave  fellow,  and 
110 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

I  forgive  you  the  mistake.  As  for  harm,  I  do  begin 
to  feel  something  like  a  cracked  crown;  but  my 
wits  are  whole  enough,  so  the  damage  can't  be  very 
great.  I  can  tell  better  if  you  will  allow  me  to 
rise  —  which  you  can  safely  do,  as  I  assure  you 
I'm  not  your  enemy,  nor  was  I  lying  in  wait." 

Everell  then  explained  his  concealment  among  the 
bracken,  relating  exactly  what  he  had  seen.  "  I 
thought  you  must  have  got  far  away,  to  judge 
from  your  speed  down  yonder  slope." 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  the  man,  stepping  back  so  that 
Everell  might  rise,  "  I  had  no  need  to  run  further. 
I  was  already  off  the  land  of  them  that  were  chas- 
ing me  —  the  boundary  is  just  beyond  the  glade: 
you  could  see  the  fence  among  the  trees  if  'twere 
daylight  —  but  I  kept  running  lest  they  might  send 
a  shot  after  me.  As  soon  as  I  found  covert  on  this 
side  the  glade,  I  stopped  to  get  my  breath.  Now, 
sir,  I've  been  as  frank  with  you  as  you've  been 
with  me;  and  I'm  glad  to  see,  by  the  way  you 
stand  and  step,  that  no  lasting  injury  is  done,  after 
all." 

Everell,  whose  hat  had  saved  his  skull,  and  who 
could  feel  only  a  little  blood,  and  that  already  coag- 
ulating, was  able  to  stand  without  other  unpleasant 
symptoms  than  a  thumping  ache  of  the  head.  His 
new  acquaintance  seemed  ready  to  go  about  his 

111 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

own  business,  but  Everell  was  loth  to  part  with  him 
so  soon.  He  was  a  short,  thick-set,  long-armed 
fellow,  with  a  broad  face,  whose  bold,  rugged  fea- 
tures would  by  ignorant  people  be  termed  ugly, 
and  whose  scowling,  defiant  look  would  by  the  same 
people  be  called  wicked.  But  something  in  his 
speech  or  manner,  or  even  in  his  appearance  as  far 
as  could  be  made  out  in  the  comparative  darkness, 
stamped  him  in  Everell's  mind  as  an  honest  rascal, 
worthy  of  confidence. 

"  No  injury,  I  assure  you,"  replied  Everell.  "  In- 
deed I  must  thank  you  for  a  lesson.  Henceforth 
I  shall  look  before  I  leap,  in  any  similar  case ;  with 
my  hand  on  my  sword,  too." 

"  Tis  a  wise  resolve,  master.  Though  I  for  one 
am  glad  your  hand  was  not  on  your  sword  to-night : 
for  then  I  should  have  felt  sure  you  were  in  league 
with  them  yonder,  and  worse  might  have  happened." 

"  By  '  them  yonder,'  I  take  it  you  mean  game- 
keepers." 

"  Ay,  sir,  Squire  Thornby's  men.  'Tis  his  wood, 
yon  enclosure.  Here  on  the  Foxwell  land  a  fellow 
is  safe  enough,  so  long  as  it  be  only  a  rabbit  or 
pheasant  now  and  then.  Sure  the  more  fool  I  for 
not  thinking  of  that  when  you  appeared  —  I  might 
'a'  known  the  Foxwell  people  would  never  stop 
a  man  them  Thornby  keepers  was  down  upon." 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Then  the  shot  I  heard  awhile  ago  was  fired  at 
you  by  the  Thornby  keepers?" 

"  No  need  to  speak  of  that,  sir.  If  so  be  you 
heard  a  shot,  why,  you  heard  it,  and  there's  an  end." 
While  he  spoke,  the  man  fingered  with  the  flap  of 
a  well-stuffed  pocket  in  his  coat.  "  How  I  knew 
it  was  the  Thornby  people  was  by  their  voices,  sir, 
whereby  I  saw  fit  to  run.  Not  that  I'm  afeard  of 
e'er  a  body  of  them  all,  but  I  hold  it  'ud  be  fool's 
work  to  shorten  my  own  life  or  another  man's. 
And  right  glad  I  be  to  know  I  didn't  shorten  your 
honour's,  especially  now  I  see  what  sort  of  gentle- 
man your  honour  is." 

"  'Twould  have  been  an  odd  twist  of  luck  indeed," 
returned  Everell,  good-humouredly.  "  I  am  much 
in  your  own  case,  friend :  far  from  desiring  to  trip 
up  another  man,  I  must  look  to  it  that  I'm  not 
tripped  up  myself.  My  fellow-feeling  at  present 
is  with  the  fox  rather  than  the  hounds." 

"  Then  belike  you  are  seeking  cover  hereabouts?  " 
inquired  the  poacher,  in  a  tone  of  friendly  interest. 

"  At  all  events,  I  wish  to  remain  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood a  few  days,  without  encountering  a  great 
degree  of  publicity.  I  say  as  much  to  an  honest 
rogue  like  yourself  —  I  mightn't  be  as  free  with 
a  more  respectable  man." 

"  You're  not  far  wrong  there,  sir,"  replied  the 
113 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

fellow,  not  at  all  displeased,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
gratified  at  the  justice  done  him.  "  I  don't  ask  to 
know  anything;  I  have  secrets  enough  of  my  own. 
But  if  I  can  be  of  any  small  service,  in  the  way  of 
information  about  the  lay  o'  the  land  or  such  a 
matter  —  for  I  see  you're  a  stranger  hereabouts, 
and  I  know  these  parts  well  —  better  than  they  know 
me,  by  a  great  deal  —  why,  then,  I'm  your  servant 
to  command.  But,  if  not,  I'll  bid  ye  good-night 
and  safe  lying  wherever  you  may  lodge." 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  I  lodge  at  the  ale-house  in  the 
village,  for  to-night,  at  least.  I  told  the  landlord 
I  would  ride  on  to-morrow;  I  shall  have  to  find 
some  pretext  for  staying." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  know  your  own  wishes  —  but  'tis 
not  the  most  private  place,  that  there  ale-house,  and 
they  be  inquisitive  folk,  them  in  the  village." 

"  What  other  lodging  would  you  recommend  ?  " 
asked  Everell,  for  the  first  time  seriously  awake  to 
the  curiosity  that  his  presence  must  arouse  in  so 
remote  a  place.  "  I  certainly  desire  to  go  and  come 
unobserved :  I  have  no  mind  that  my  motions  should 
be  watched  and  discussed." 

"  Why,  that's  a  question,"  said  the  other,  frankly 
nonplussed. 

"  You  ought  to  know  the  answer,"  said  Everell. 
"  Surely  you  are  able  to  go  and  come  without  wit- 

114 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

nesses,  when  upon  such  amusements  as  brought  you 
out  this  evening." 

"  Be  sure  I  don't  live  at  the  village  ale-house, 
master.  Nor  at  any  village,  neither;  nor  in  sight 
of  one." 

"  Where,  then,  do  you  live?" 

"  I  have  my  cottage,  and  my  patch  o'  ground  that 
I  contrive  to  coax  a  livin'  out  of  —  with  a  little 
assistance  from  outside."  He  scarce  consciously 
laid  his  palm  against  the  fat  pocket.  "  'Tis  a  poor 
place,  sir,  but  has  the  recommendation  of  privacy. 
'Tis  so  lost  in  the  woods,  so  to  speak,  and  closed 
round  by  hillocks  and  thickets,  I  doubt  you  could 
ever  find  it  if  I  told  you  the  way." 

"  Who  lives  with  you?  " 

"  Nobody  at  present,  since  my  last  son  was  took 
by  the  press-gang  —  he  was  in  Newcastle  to  visit 
his  brother,  who's  a  porter  there.  They  would  go 
out  to  see  the  world,  them  lads ! " 

"  Then  you  have  room  for  a  lodger,"  said  Everell, 
tentatively. 

"  Fine  lodgings  for  a  gentleman  like  you,  sir !  " 

"Never  mind;  I've  had  worse,"  Everell  replied, 
thinking  of  Scotland ;  "  and  not  so  long  since, 
either." 

"  And  the  food,  sir,  —  with  your  tender  stom- 
ach?" 

115 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Man,  I've  lived  two  days  on  a  wet  oatcake." 
The  poacher  was  not  the  sort  of  fellow  to  offer 
the  same  objections  over  again,  nor  to  be  upset  by 
the  novelty  of  the  suggestion.  The  two  being  cir- 
cumstanced as  they  were,  and  intuitively  trusting 
each  other,  no  proposal  could  have  been  more  nat- 
ural. So  far  from  hemming  and  hawing,  there- 
fore, the  man  merely  enumerated  such  further  dis- 
advantages as  a  gentleman  must  encounter  in  shar- 
ing his  abode  and  larder,  and,  these  being  made 
light  of,  gave  his  assent.  The  question  immediately 
arose  as  to  how  Everell  should  transfer  his  residence 
from  the  ale-house  to  the  poacher's  cottage  without 
leaving  a  trace.  It  was  important  that  he  should 
depart  from  the  ale-house  in  regular  fashion,  lest 
it  be  supposed  that  he  had  met  with  foul  play,  and 
a  search  be  made.  Moreover,  he  must  have  his 
belongings  —  for  the  cloak-bag  contained  his  clean 
linen,  stockings,  razor,  and  other  necessaries  of 
decent  living:  though  he  desired  to  be  visible  to 
but  one  person  while  in  the  neighbourhood,  he  de- 
sired that  to  her  he  should  appear  at  no  disadvan- 
tage. After  some  discussion,  a  course  was  planned, 
which  Everell  and  his  intended  host  —  who  gave 
his  name  as  John  Tarby  —  immediately  set  out 
upon. 

John  Tarby  led  the  way  through  that  part  of  the 
116 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

wood  which  Everell  had  lately  traversed.  They 
came,  at  length,  to  the  verge  of  the  glen;  but,  in- 
stead of  keeping  to  the  edge,  the  guide  descended 
the  bracken-covered  side  into  the  deeper  gloom  of 
the  thickly  timbered  bottom.  Here,  indeed,  Everell 
found  what  was  to  him  complete  darkness,  and  he 
had  to  clutch  his  companion's  coat-skirt  for  guid- 
ance. John  Tarby,  however,  proceeded  without 
hesitation  or  doubt,  deviating  this  way  or  that  to 
avoid  tree  or  thicket,  the  music  of  the  stream  rising 
or  falling  as  the  two  men  moved  more  or  less  close 
to  its  border.  At  last  they  emerged  from  the  glen's 
mouth,  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  incline  that  rose  to 
the  old  sunken  garden  of  Foxwell  Court.  Here 
John  Tarby  concealed  his  gun  by  laying  it  across 
the  boughs  of  a  young  oak.  Where  the  glen  and 
the  timber  ceased,  the  walkers  were  encountered  by 
the  high  palings  which  served  to  enclose  the  park 
on  that  side  except  where  wooden  bars  spanned  the 
stream.  By  using  the  bars  as  a  bridge,  Everell  and 
his  guide  crossed  the  stream.  Tarby  led  the  way 
a  few  rods  farther,  stopped,  and  carefully  removed 
a  loose  paling  or  two.  They  squeezed  themselves 
through  the  opening,  and  stood  in  the  field.  Tarby 
replaced  the  palings  in  their  former  apparently 
secure  position,  and  then  the  two  rapidly  skirted 
the  field,  keeping  close  to  the  fence  so  as  to  profit 

117 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

by  the  dark  background  it  afforded  their  bodies. 
Turning  at  the  angle  of  the  field,  and  skulking  along 
a  rough  stone  wall,  they  finally  reached  the  village 
end,  meeting  their  former  companion,  the  stream, 
just  in  time  for  a  momentary  greeting  ere  it  passed 
under  the  bridge.  Leaving  the  poacher  to  lie  un- 
seen in  the  shadowed  corner  of  the  field,  Everell 
clambered  over  a  wooden  barrier  and  up  a  low  bank, 
and,  having  thus  gained  the  road,  went  on  alone 
to  the  ale-house. 

The  village  street  was  deserted,  but  the  ale-house 
windows  showed  light;  and  the  sound  of  slow, 
broad  voices,  mingled  in  chaffing  disputation,  indi- 
cated that  ale  was  flowing  in  the  general  room. 
Everell  went  by  way  of  the  passage  to  his  own 
chamber,  where  a  lighted  candle  awaited  him.  He 
rang  for  the  landlord. 

"  I've  found  a  conveyance  to  Burndale  to-night," 
said  Everell,  when  the  old  man  appeared.  "  A  be- 
lated carrier,  I  believe,  whom  I  met  at  the  bridge 
yonder,  where  he's  waiting  for  me.  But  as  I  took 
this  room  for  the  night,  you  must  allow  me  to  pay 
for  it,  and  the  price  of  breakfast,  too." 

The  landlord,  whose  face  had  lengthened  at  the 
first  words,  now  resumed  his  serenity,  and  he  ami- 
ably gathered  in  the  silver  that  Everell  had  laid  on 
the  table.  This  seemed  to  warm  him  into  solicitude 

118 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

for  the  departing  guest's  convenience,  and  he  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  the  wagoner  was  at  the  door 
to  carry  the  bag. 

"  Nay,  he  wouldn't  turn  back,"  said  Everell ; 
"  nor  could  he  leave  his  horses.  But  'tis  not  far 
to  the  bridge."  And  he  took  up  the  bag  to  bear  it 
himself. 

"  Nay,  then,  your  pardon,  sir,  I'll  carry  it,"  inter- 
posed the  landlord. 

"  My  good  man,  I  wouldn't  think  of  taking  you 
from  your  house  and  customers." 

"  Tis  not  far,  as  you  say,  sir,  and  my  daugh- 
ter —  " 

But  Everell  had  gone,  and  the  obliging  old  fel- 
low was  left  to  scratch  his  head  and  wonder.  The 
more  he  wondered,  the  more  reason  there  seemed 
for  doing  so.  He  had  not  heard  anything  like  a 
carrier's  wagon  pass,  as  it  must  have  done  if  it  was 
now  at  the  bridge  and  bound  for  Burndale.  It  was 
strange  enough  that  a  carrier's  wagon  should  travel 
that  road  at  such  an  hour,  and  stranger  still  that 
it  should  do  so  without  its  custodian  stopping  for 
a  cup  of  good  cheer.  And  the  gentleman's  unwill- 
ingness to  have  his  baggage  carried ! 

The  ale-house  keeper  was  not  so  old  as  to  have 
outlived  curiosity.  He  slipped  out,  crossed  the 
green,  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  peering 

119 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

through  the  starlit  night.  Yes,  there  was  the  figure 
of  the  gentleman,  truly  enough,  swiftly  retreating 
down  the  village  street  that  led  to  the  bridge.  The 
landlord  slunk  after  him,  keeping  close  to  the  walls 
and  hedges,  and  stepping  silently.  He  was  soon 
sufficiently  near  the  bridge  to  perceive  that  no  con- 
veyance waited  there.  The  assurance  of  this  acted 
so  upon  his  mind  as  to  make  him  stop  and  con- 
sider whether  it  was  safe  to  go  further.  As  he  stood 
gaping,  the  form  of  the  strange  gentleman  suddenly 
vanished.  The  old  man  stared  for  another  moment : 
then,  assailed  with  a  feeling  that  here  was  mystery 
nothing  short  of  devil's  work,  he  turned  and  fled 
in  a  panic  to  his  ale-house. 

Everell,  who  had  not  once  looked  back,  had  passed 
from  the  old  man's  view  by  turning  from  the  road 
to  rejoin  the  waiting  poacher.  Without  a  word, 
Tarby  arose,  relieved  Everell  of  the  cloak-bag,  and 
led  the  way  over  the  route  by  which  they  had  come 
from  the  park.  The  palings  were  again  removed 
and  replaced,  the  stream  was  again  crossed  by  means 
of  the  bars.  The  two  entered  the  blackness  of  the 
glen,  Tarby  repossessing  himself  of  his  fowling- 
piece.  By  the  time  they  had  ascended  to  the  general 
level  of  the  park,  the  moon  had  risen,  and,  as  they 
proceeded  in  a  Northwesterly  direction,  the  more 
open  spaces,  whether  clothed  in  green  sward  or  in 

120 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

bracken  of  autumnal  brown,  wore  a  beauty  which 
Everell  associated  in  his  mind  with  the  young  lady 
not  far  away,  and  thus  the  silent  woods  and  glades 
seemed  to  him  a  forest  of  enchantment. 

Tarby  spoke  only  to  call  Everell's  attention  to 
landmarks  by  which  he  might  know  the  course  again. 
He  indicated  the  whereabouts  of  the  keeper's  lodge 
without  passing  near  it.  They  left  the  park  by 
means  of  another  such  weak  place  in  the  barrier  as 
had  served  them  before,  the  poacher  remarking  that 
he  preferred  that  kind  of  egress  even  when  barred 
gates  were  near  at  hand.  They  now  traversed  a 
deserted  bit  of  heath,  covered  with  gorse,  and 
plunged  into  a  rough  wood,  much  thicker  and 
gloomier  than  the  park  behind  them.  Following 
a  ditch,  or  bed  of  a  dried-up  stream,  they  emerged 
at  last  upon  some  partly  clear,  rugged  land  which 
rose  gradually  before  them.  This  they  ascended, 
and  so  came  to  a  region  of  bare,  rocky  hills  and 
deep  wooded  hollows.  Tarby  kept  mainly  to  the 
hollows,  until  at  last,  having  crossed  a  little  ridge, 
he  descended  to  a  vale  lying  in  the  shape  of  a  cres- 
cent, and  seeming  in  the  moonlight  to  be  covered 
with  timber;  but  a  narrow  patch  of  clearing  ran 
diagonally  across,  watered  by  a  little  stream.  Ever- 
ell and  his  guide  came  into  this  clearing  at  the  end 
by  which  the  brook  left  it.  Near  the  stream  —  so 

121 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

near,  indeed,  that  they  had  barely  room  to  walk 
between  —  was  a  thick  mass  of  tall  gorse  bushes, 
threatening  scratches  to  any  intruder.  Tarby  turned 
in  among  these  at  a  narrow  opening,  followed  close 
by  his  wondering  guest.  In  a  moment  Everell  dis- 
covered that  the  bushes,  instead  of  constituting  a 
solid  thicket,  formed  but  a  hollow  circle,  within 
which  was  a  low  cottage  of  timber  and  rough  plaster. 

"  Here  us  be,"  said  John  Tarby,  dropping  bag 
and  gun  to  respond  to  the  leaping  caresses  of  a 
mongrel  hound  that  had  sprung  up  from  the  door- 
stone.  "  He  won't  hurt  you,  sir ;  'tis  a  'bedient 
animal.  When  I  tells  him  to  stop  here,  'tis  here 
he  stops,  and  won't  come  out  even  to  meet  me,  un- 
less I  call  or  whistle." 

The  dog  transferred  his  attentions  to  Everell  on 
perceiving  him  to  be  an  approved  visitor,  while  the 
poacher  opened  the  door  and  lighted  a  candle  within. 
Entering,  Everell  found  a  combination  of  kitchen, 
sleeping-chamber,  and  living-room,  the  whole  giv- 
ing an  impression  of  comfort  far  exceeding  that 
of  the  bothy  he  had  for  a  time  inhabited  in  Scot- 
land. 

"  So  this  is  your  castle,"  said  Everell,  looking 
around  with  approbation. 

"  Ay,  sir,  with  the  gorse  for  wall  and  the  brook 
for  moat.  And  I  don't  lack  a  postern  to  escape  by, 

122 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

if  so  be  I  was  ever  hard  pressed  in  front."  He 
opened  a  small  square  shutter  in  the  back  of  the 
room.  "  'Tis  all  gorse  out  there,  sir,  and  only 
me  and  the  dog  knows  the  path  through  to  the 
rocks." 

There  was  at  one  end  of  the  room  a  pallet  bed, 
which  Tarby  assigned  to  his  guest,  saying  he  would 
shake  down  some  heather  for  his  own  use  at  the 
opposite  end.  He  went  out,  and  returned  with  a 
sackful  of  this,  having  borrowed  from  the  reserve 
supply  of  his  cow,  which  he  housed  in  a  shed  on 
the  other  side  of  the  stream.  He  informed  Everell 
that  he  kept  a  few  fowls  also,  though  the  great  part 
of  his  clearing  was  made  to  serve  as  a  vegetable- 
garden.  He  asked  what  Everell  would  like  for 
supper,  and  named  three  or  four  possibilities  besides 
the  rabbit  he  drew  from  his  large  pocket.  But  Ever- 
ell had  supped  at  the  ale-house,  and,  as  he  was  now 
quite  fatigued,  he  went  to  bed,  leaving  his  host  to 
partake  of  bread  and  cheese,  while  the  dog  munched 
a  cold  bone  in  the  corner. 

When  Everell  awoke,  bright  day  was  shining  in 
through  the  single  window  and  the  open  doorway, 
and  John  Tarby  was  preparing  a  breakfast  of  eggs 
and  bacon.  Everell,  despite  his  now  eager  appe- 
tite and  his  impatience  to  be  about  his  purpose, 
dressed  himself  with  care,  performing  his  toilet  with 

123 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  aid  of  the  stream,  and  putting  on  fresh  linen 
and  stockings.  He  then  ate  heartily,  and,  having 
given  his  host  a  sufficient  idea  of  where  he  wished 
to  spend  his  day,  set  forth  in  Tarby's  company,  that 
the  poacher  might  show  him  the  way  by  daylight. 
Taking  care  to  note  every  landmark,  Everell  arrived 
finally  in  that  portion  of  the  Foxwell  park  which 
lay  near  the  mansion.  Tarby  here  took  his  leave, 
to  attend  to  his  own  affairs,  making  a  rendezvous 
with  his  guest  in  case  the  latter  should  not  have 
returned  to  the  cottage  by  nightfall  —  for  it  was  not 
certain  that  he  could  find  his  way  after  dark  at  the 
first  attempt. 

Everell  strolled  on  till  the  gables  of  Foxwell  Court 
appeared  through  the  trees.  He  found  a  convenient 
spot  where  he  could  sit  and  observe  the  terrace  that 
stretched  between  the  house  and  the  park.  His 
highest  hope  was  that  the  young  lady  would,  sooner 
or  later,  come  to  take  the  air  upon  the  terrace  and 
extend  her  walk  into  the  park. 

He  sat  amidst  bracken,  peering  out  through  count- 
less small  openings  among  the  browning  leaves  and 
stems.  A  hundred  times  he  changed  his  position, 
and  a  hundred  sighs  of  impatience  escaped  him, 
before  anything  occurred  to  break  the  monotony  of 
his  watch.  And  when,  toward  noon,  the  great  door 
of  the  house  opened,  and  figures  in  feminine  garb 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

appeared,  they  proved  to  be  only  the  two  ladies 
in  whom  he  was  not  interested.  They  sauntered 
along  the  terrace,  arm  in  arm,  talking  and  laughing, 
making  a  graceful  picture  against  the  broken  balus- 
trade, or  on  the  wide  steps  between  the  moss-cov- 
ered, crumbling  flower-pots.  They  were  joined 
presently  by  the  stouter  gentleman,  and  at  last  by 
the  taller.  Finally,  after  a  half-hour  of  mirthful 
chatter,  the  four  went  indoors  again,  and  left  the 
terrace  empty  for  another  long  time  of  waiting. 

In  the  afternoon  the  same  four  appeared  on  horse- 
back in  the  lane  which  served  as  the  bridle-path 
from  the  courtyard  side  of  the  house  to  the  park. 
Entering  the  park  at  some  distance  from  Everett's 
hiding-place,  they  were  soon  lost  to  his  view  among 
the  trees.  If  she  should  appear  now,  while  they 
were  absent!  As  time  lengthened,  he  meditated 
going  boldly  to  the  house  and  asking  for  her.  But 
he  forced  himself  to  patience,  only  moving  to  another 
watching-place  a  few  yards  away.  He  had  scarcely 
done  so,  and  resumed  his  gaze,  when  he  beheld  her 
standing  upon  the  steps  of  the  house. 

He  sat  perfectly  still,  as  if  the  least  alarm  might 
frighten  her  away.  She  advanced  slowly  down  the 
terrace,  looked  West,  then  East,  then  into  the  park. 
Would  that  those  inviting  shades  might  lure  her! 
—  would  that  she  might  feel  and  obey  the  beckon- 

125 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ing  of  his  heart !  But  she  turned  and  walked  to  the 
Western  end  of  the  terrace,  and  stood  for  awhile  in 
admiration  of  the  soft  landscape  and  distant  moun- 
tains. Presently  he  saw  her  look  sharply  toward 
the  park,  as  if  her  attention  had  been  suddenly,  and 
not  pleasantly,  drawn  that  way.  He  heard  the  ri- 
ders, who  were  doubtless  coming  back,  and  would 
pass  near  her  in  going  through  the  lane.  She 
turned  and  moved  toward  the  opposite  end  of  the 
terrace  —  evidently  to  avoid  them.  She  did  not 
stop  till  she  was  looking  on  the  neglected  garden 
from  the  top  of  the  steps  descending  to  it.  There 
she  stood  for  a  few  moments,  contemplating  the 
scene;  then  passed  down  the  steps,  disappearing 
from  view. 

Everell  took  his  resolution :  sprang  from  his  place, 
and,  bending  his  body  forward,  dashed  through 
bracken  and  behind  trees  to  the  glen-side.  He 
darted  along  the  crest,  reached  the  gate  in  the  wall, 
and  saw  the  young  lady  sauntering  amidst  the  trees 
and  shrubbery.  He  glided  swiftly  forth,  and  was 
on  his  knee,  pressing  her  hand  to  his  lips,  ere  she 
could  do  more  than  utter  a  low  cry  of  astonishment. 

The  surprise  in  her  face  was  quickly  followed  by 
pleasure;  but  consciousness  came  a  moment  later, 
with  a  rush  of  scarlet  to  her  cheeks  and  a  look  of 
faint  reproof  and  vague  apprehension  to  her  eyes. 

126 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Good  heaven,  sir,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  never  dreamed  of  seeing  you  again !  " 

"  Fear  nothing,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  as  guarded 
as  hers ;  "  we  cannot  be  observed  here  —  the  shrub- 
bery is  all  around  us.  —  I  have  come  to  thank  you 
for  the  warning  you  gave  me  at  the  inn  yesterday." 


127 


CHAPTER   VII. 

KISSES 

"To  thank  me?"  she  repeated,  round-eyed. 
"  You  mean  that  is  what  brings  you  here  —  to 
thank  me  for  such  a  little  thing?  " 

"  Not  such  a  little  thing,  either,"  he  replied  with 
a  smile,  as  he  rose ;  "  the  saving,  perhaps,  of  my  life 
and  my  comrade's." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  yes  —  a  very  great  thing !  —  but 
a  little  thing  to  do  —  so  easily  done.  And  to  come 
all  the  way  hither  to  thank  —  "  She  stopped  short 
and  looked  at  him  steadily,  then  blushed  deeper. 
"  Oh !  —  you  will  think  me  a  fool,  sir :  —  for  a 
moment  I  believed  exactly  what  you  said;  I  made 
no  allowance  for  compliment;  I  am  inexperienced, 
as  you  can  see." 

"  Nay,  but  upon  my  honour  I  spoke  the  truth," 
he  protested  in  surprise. 

"  Then  you  indeed  came  here  only  to  thank  me?  " 

"  To  thank  you,  but  not  only  that.  I  came  to  see 
and  hear  you." 

128 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  You  mean  —  nothing  else  —  brought  you  to  this 
neighbourhood  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  you.  Had  I  not  met  you  at  the  inn 
yesterday,  I  should  now  be  with  my  friend,  far 
on  the  road  Southward." 

The  look  of  apprehension  returned  to  her  face. 

"  Oh,  heaven,  yes !  —  the  danger  you  are  in ! 
How  do  you  intend  to  save  yourself?  Are  you 
not  risking  your  life  by  remaining  in  England?  " 

"  Pray  don't  be  alarmed  on  that  score :  I  have 
the  means  of  leaving  England  when  the  time  comes." 

"  When  the  time  comes  ?  When  will  that  be  ? 
What  is  it  that  delays  you  ?  " 

He  was  not  prepared  with  an  answer.  "  Why,  — 
ah  —  you  must  know  my  friend  has  some  matters 
to  settle  before  he  leaves ;  —  we  are  to  sail  together, 
when  he  is  ready." 

"  Then  you  should  have  remained  together.  Why 
did  you  leave  him?  If  what  you  said  is  true,  you 
have  interrupted  your  flight  —  to  see  me." 

"  You  are  worthy  of  a  far  greater  compliment 
than  that,"  said  he,  as  gallantly  as  the  confusion 
he  felt  in  her  presence  allowed  him  to  speak. 

"  But  if  danger  came  to  you  through  this,  how 
I  should  have  to  reproach  myself!  Oh,  I  beg  you, 
follow  your  friend:  overtake  him.  Lose  no  time: 
now  that  you  have  thanked  me,  go  —  go  quickly !  " 

129 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  And  have  you  the  heart  to  send  me  away  when 
I  have  but  just  found  you?  " 

"  Nay,  if  your  life  were  not  at  stake  —  no,  I 
mean  not  that.  I  ought  not  to  talk  with  you  —  I 
ought  not  to  stay  here." 

Trembling,  she  made  to  retreat,  but  he  gently  in- 
terposed. 

"  Nay,"  he  said,  very  tenderly,  "  the  '  oughts ' 
and  '  ought  nots  '  of  custom  do  not  apply  to  us, 
situated  as  we  are.  Are  you  not  among  people  who 
make  you  unhappy?  Am  I  not  a  man  whose  life 
you  have  saved,  and  who  would  do  anything  in 
the  world  for  you  ?  Can  you  not  trust  me  as  I  trust 
you?  Why  then  shouldn't  you  talk  with  me? 
Tell  me,  what  if  my  life  were  not  at  stake?  " 

"  I  have  forgot  what  I  was  saying." 

"  If  my  life  were  not  at  stake,  you  would  not  bid 
me  go  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  —  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  You  were  startled  to  see  me  here.  Did  you 
not  think  I  might  come?  " 

She  could  have  truly  answered  that  she  had 
been  without  the  slightest  expectation  of  ever  seeing 
him  again.  Yet  she  had  permitted  her  imagination 
the  indulgence  of  a  vague  scene  of  future  meeting, 
not  far  unlike  that  which  was  now  taking  place. 
The  consciousness  of  this  added  to  the  sweet  em- 

130 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

barrassment  she  felt,  and  she  could  only  reply,  fool- 
ishly, "  Why  should  I  have  thought  so?  " 

Everell  sighed,  realizing  that,  as  far  as  speeches 
went,  he  was  not  making  rapid  progress.  "  At  all 
events,"  said  he,  rallying  his  powers  of  gaiety, 
"  here  I  am,  and  in  this  neighbourhood  I  mean  to 
stay  for  a  time,  so  'tis  of  no  use  bidding  me  go  —  " 

"  But  are  you  safe  in  this  neighbourhood  ?  "  she 
broke  in,  her  eyes  forgetting  their  shyness  in  search- 
ing his  face  to  see  if  his  confidence  was  real.  "  That 
man  at  the  inn  may  have  described  you  to  many 
people." 

"  I  will  take  care  none  of  them  see  me.  I  have 
a  secure  hiding-place  in  the  wilderness,  and  a 
friend  to  supply  my  wants.  I  shall  be  visible  to 
none  but  him  —  and  you." 

"Tome?    How  to  me?" 

"  Even  as  I  am  at  this  moment :  here,  in  this 
garden.  'Tis  evidently  a  deserted  place ;  the  shrub- 
bery and  walls  conceal  us,  and  escape  is  easy  to  the 
glen  yonder  if  we  should  hear  anybody  approach. 
No  one,  finding  you  here  alone,  would  suspect  you 
had  had  a  visitor." 

"  I  must  not  risk  that  discovery,  — •  for  your 
sake,  I  must  not.  I  shall  be  missed  in  the  house, 
I'm  afraid,  —  my  uncle  and  his  friends  have  re- 
turned." 

181 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Nay,  don't  go  yet.  Pray,  not  yet !  I  have  said 
nothing  yet,  accomplished  nothing." 

"What  would  you  say,  then?     Speak  quickly." 

"  A  thousand  things.  I  can't  unload  my  heart  of 
a  sudden  at  the  cry,  '  Stand  and  deliver ! '  —  you 
send  my  thoughts  into  confusion.  Do  not  go  yet! 
—  'tis  not  so  much  saying  what  I  would,  as  being 
with  you." 

"  But  they  will  be  inquiring  for  me  —  my  maid 
will  be  seeking.  My  uncle  —  " 

"  Is  your  uncle  so  heedful  of  you  that  he  must 
always  know  where  you  are?  " 

"  Far  from  it.  I  am  nothing  to  him  and  his 
friends.  But  if  the  whim  should  seize  him  —  if  by 
any  chance  they  should  find  me  talking  with  a 
stranger —  Oh,  really,  sir,  I  must  go." 

"  Again  you  call  me  stranger !  " 

"  Why,  in  their  eyes  you  would  be  a  stranger." 

"  But  not  in  yours  ?  Ah,  thank  you  for  that 
much,  at  least.  You  acknowledge  me  as  a  friend  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  suppose  —  since  you  declare  yourself 
so,  I  must  needs  believe  you.  Heaven  knows,  I  have 
felt  some  want  of  a  friend,  having  none  in  this 
house.  Were  it  otherwise,  were  this  place  my 
aunt's,  perhaps  I  should  not  have  stayed  a  moment 
to  hear  you." 

"  I  must  bless  my  fortune,  then,  that  this  house 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

is  not  your  aunt's.  I  can  even  be  glad  you  are 
not  among  friends  here,  since  that  leaves  room  in 
your  heart  for  me.  And  yet  I  could  slay  any  who 
were  lacking  in  the  friendship  you  had  a  right  to 
expect  of  them.  How  can  they  be  so,  to  you?" 

His  gaze  had  so  much  ardour  that  her  own  eyes 
softened  in  it,  and  the  consequence  of  that  melting 
was  that  he  swiftly  folded  her  in  his  arms  and 
pressed  a  kiss  obliquely  upon  her  lips. 

"  Now  I  must  go,"  she  whispered,  after  a  mo- 
ment, gently  pushing  him  away. 

"  Now  less  than  ever,  sweet,"  he  replied,  still 
clasping  her. 

"  Oh,  but  I  must  —  sure  I  beg  —  Prudence  will 
be  looking  for  me." 

Her  insistence  of  manner  was  such  that  he  dared 
not  hold  her  longer  without  feeling  guilty  of  vio- 
lence. But  he  still  retained  her  hand,  to  say : 

"  And  when  will  you  be  here  again?  " 

"  I  know  not,"  she  answered,  hurriedly.  "  How 
can  I  say?" 

"  Well,  then,  whenever  you  do  come,  you  will  find 
me  waiting  for  you." 

"  No,  no ;  that  will  not  be  safe.  I  had  forgotten 
the  danger  you  are  in.  Do  not  come  here  at  all  — 
by  daylight.  —  If  you  must,  why,  come  after  sun- 
set. They  will  be  at  their  cards  and  wine  then." 

133 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  And  you  ?  —  you  are  sure  to  be  here  then  ?  " 
"  'Tis  the  safest  time.    They  will  think  me  in  my 
room  —  well,  I  may  be  here  —  to-morrow  evening 

—  if  nothing  prevents." 

"  But  why  not  this  evening?  " 

"  No.  I  will  really  go  to  my  room  this  evening, 
as  I  did  yesterday :  they  will  take  it  as  a  matter  of 
course  afterwards.  To-morrow  evening,  perhaps.'' 

"  But  'tis  so  far  away :  so  many  hours  must 
pass  till  then !  "  He  still  detained  her  hand,  though 
she  was  at  arm's  length  to  be  gone. 

"  You  will  have  the  more  time  to  reconsider  — 
to  resolve  upon  joining  your  friend,  and  not  tarry- 
ing here  longer  at  the  risk  of  your  life." 

"  What,  do  you  still  wish  me  to  go  at  once?  " 

"  If  you  should  be  taken !  —  if  you  should  have 
to  meet  the  fate  —  oh,  I  dare  not  think  of  it !  How 
can  I  wish  you  to  stay,  when  I  think  of  the  danger  ?  " 

"  'Tis  for  me  to  think  of  the  danger ;  'tis  for 
you  only  to  let  me  love  you  —  and  to  meet  me  here 
as  often  as  you  will." 

"  Well,  I  shall  no  doubt  be  here  to-morrow  after 
sunset.  I  must  take  my  maid  into  confidence:  she 
can  keep  watch  at  the  terrace  steps.  Farewell,  then ! 

—  and  be  careful  —  till  to-morrow  sunset !  " 

He  stepped  forward  in  hope  of  repeating  the  kiss, 
but  she  recovered  her  hand  from  his  grasp  and  fled 

134 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

rapidly  up  the  lane  of  shrubbery.  Everell  followed, 
and  saw  her  ascend  the  steps,  hasten  along  the 
terrace,  and  disappear  without  looking  back.  He 
stood  and  sighed,  thinking  how  short  had  been  the 
long-awaited  meeting,  how  tedious  would  be  the 
time  till  the  next.  But  he  had  the  kiss  to  comfort 
his  reflections,  at  least,  —  the  kiss  and  the  com- 
pliant though  startled  manner  in  which  she  had 
submitted  to  it.  His  heart  glowing  at  this  recol- 
lection, he  turned  his  steps  to  the  seclusion  of  the 
glen. 

Since  she  would  not  meet  him  before  the  end  of 
the  next  day  —  what  an  interminable  stretch  of 
empty  time  the  interval  appeared !  —  he  knew  his 
best  course  was  to  return  at  once  to  John  Tarby's 
cottage.  But  he  found  it  so  hard  to  drag  his  legs 
farther  from  the  Foxwell  mansion,  that  he  decided 
to  remain  concealed  among  the  bracken,  on  the  pos- 
sibility that  she  might  change  her  mind  and  revisit 
the  garden  that  evening.  In  this  hope  he  tarried 
till  an  hour  after  nightfall,  without  reward.  He 
then  betook  himself  reluctantly,  with  the  pangs  of 
hunger  and  the  sighs  of  disappointment  for  com- 
pany, to  where  his  road  left  the  park.  At  that  place 
Tarby  was  waiting,  and  with  little  speech  the  two 
made  their  way  homeward.  Everell  took  the  lead, 
that  he  might  test  his  knowledge  of  the  path ;  twice 

135 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

or  thrice  he  had  to  fall  back  upon  the  poacher's 
guidance,  but  on  these  occasions  he  made  such  note 
of  landmarks  as  should  assure  him  of  going  right 
in  future. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  cot,  Everell  gave  a  dif- 
ferent reception  to  his  host's  mention  of  supper 
from  that  which  he  had  given  on  the  previous  night. 
Though  love  had  enabled  him  to  go  all  the  day  with- 
out food,  it  did  not  weaken  his  appetite  now  that 
supper  was  to  be  had.  John  Tarby  proved  to  be 
no  mean  cook,  and  the  Jacobite  officer,  the  rustic 
poacher,  and  the  poacher's  dog  partook  together  of 
a  hearty  though  simple  meal  with  manifest  enjoy- 
ment. But  love,  not  to  be  denied  its  proverbial 
effects  in  all  things,  asserted  its  presence  by  rob- 
bing Everell  of  some  hours  of  sleep,  and  by  directing 
his  dreams  when  at  last  his  eyes  did  close. 

The  next  day  was  but  a  repetition  of  that  which 
had  gone  before,  save  that  the  love-sick  young 
gentleman,  by  taking  the  forethought  to  provide 
himself  with  bread  and  cheese,  was  able,  as  he 
reclined  among  the  bracken,  to  pay  some  observance 
to  dinner-time  when  it  arrived.  At  last  the  slow  sun 
descended  upon  the  Westward  hills.  A  bit  of  its  rim 
still  showed  over  the  sky-line,  when  Everell  glided 
into  the  garden,  his  heart  beating  faster  than  ever 
it  had  beat  when  he  was  going  into  battle. 

136 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

Georgiana  did  not  keep  him  waiting  long.  She 
came  down  the  steps,  with  her  finger  on  her  lip, 
and  with  the  maid  Prudence,  all  excitement,  at  her 
heels.  "  Oh,  lor !  "  whispered  Prudence  at  first 
sight  of  Everell ;  "  Oh,  lor !  "  again,  when,  having 
taken  her  station  near  the  steps,  she  saw  Everell 
lead  her  mistress  up  the  lane  of  shrubbery;  and 
"  Oh,  lor ! "  a  third  time  when  the  young  man,  not 
yet  trusting  himself  to  speech,  raised  Georgiana's 
hand  in  his  trembling  fingers  to  his  lips. 

And  now  Everell  had  to  learn  that  the  second 
interview  in  a  love-affair  does  not  begin  where  the 
first  left  off.  Whether  it  is  that  the  ardour  of  ex- 
pectation produces  by  reaction  a  chill  that  mutually 
benumbs;  or  whether  each  participant,  still  un- 
certain of  the  other's  heart,  awaits  some  assurance 
before  again  committing  his  or  her  own ;  or  whether 
it  be  due  to  any  one  or  all  of  a  dozen  conceivable 
causes,  the  truth  is  that  the  second  meeting  usually 
begins  with  an  embarrassment,  or  shyness,  or  other 
feeling,  that  seems  to  put  the  lovers  farther  apart 
than  they  were  at  the  outset;  and  yet  under  this 
the  craving  for  the  tokens  of  love  is  as  strong  as  ever. 
This  was  now  Everell's  experience;  he  wondered 
why  Georgiana  was  perversely  cool,  and  then  why 
he  himself  was  tongue-tied,  powerless  to  express 
what  was  in  his  heart. 

137 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

When  they  had  paced  the  more  secluded  walks 
of  the  garden  some  fifteen  minutes,  speaking  of 
anything  but  that  which  was  most  in  Everell's  mind, 
Georgiana  suddenly  reverted  to  the  question  of 
his  safety.  The  anxious  concern  with  which  she 
regarded  him  served  to  break  the  spell  he  had  suf- 
fered under.  Making  light  of  his  danger,  he  showed 
himself  so  grateful  for  her  solicitude  that  a  still  more 
encouraging  tenderness  appeared  in  her  eyes.  With 
love  in  his  looks,  and  in  the  touch  of  his  hand  upon 
hers,  he  burst  out  with  declarations  of  his  happi- 
ness in  «her  company,  and  of  his  misery  in  her 
absence.  She  made  no  verbal  return  for  these 
tributes,  but  the  sweet  agitation  visible  in  her  face 
was  enough.  He  was  about  to  venture  a  similar  em- 
brace to  that  of  the  day  before,  when  they  heard 
Prudence  call,  in  a  low  but  excited  voice,  "  Oh, 
mistress,  mistress,  we  shall  be  discovered !  "  Geor- 
giana, in  alarm,  whispered  to  Everell,  "  Conceal 
yourself !  —  good  night !  "  and  fled  swiftly  to  where 
the  maid  was  watching.  Standing  perfectly  still, 
Everell  heard  the  two  women  go  up  the  steps,  and 
soon  the  sound  of  their  footfalls  on  the  terrace  died 
out.  They  had  returned  to  the  house,  then;  what 
had  caused  the  maid  to  give  the  alarm,  he  knew 
not,  for  there  was  no  sound  to  indicate  any  human 
presence. 

138 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

Vexed  at  this  abrupt  termination  of  the  interview 
at  the  very  moment  when  it  seemed  about  to  reward 
him,  he  waited  in  the  hope  of  Georgiana's  return. 
But  the  hope  was  vain,  and  after  two  or  three  hours 
of  diminishing  expectancy,  he  sadly  —  nay,  with 
heart-burning,  grievous  sighing,  and  clenching  of 
teeth  —  resigned  himself  to  the  prospect  of  another 
long  night  and  another  endless  day  ere  the  next 
meeting.  And  indeed  there  was  no  certainty  of  the 
meeting  even  after  that  vast  interval,  for  no  appoint- 
ment had  been  made.  But  he  trusted  to  her  human- 
ity, if  he  dared  not  count  upon  feelings  fully  re- 
ciprocal to  his  own,  to  bring  her  to  the  garden  at 
the  next  sunset.  If  she  did  not  come,  he  knew  not 
what  rash  thing  he  might  do. 

His  reliance  upon  her  compassion  was  not  in 
vain.  She  was  prompt  in  appearance  when  at  last 
the  long  night  and  the  slow  day  had  passed.  Tak- 
ing pity,  perhaps,  on  his  haggard  countenance,  she 
was  kind  from  the  outset  of  their  interview.  Pru- 
dence attended,  as  before,  but  with  instructions  to 
be  more  certain  before  crying  danger  than  she  had 
been  on  the  previous  evening,  when,  as  Georgiana 
now  told  Everell,  the  maid,  in  the  novelty  of  her 
duty,  had  given  the  alarm  at  the  mere  sound  of 
laughter  in  the  house  —  the  laughter  of  Foxwell 
and  his  visitors  over  their  wine  and  cards. 

139 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

But  though  this,  the  third  clandestine  meeting 
of  these  two  young  people,  was  not  marred  by  any 
preliminary  chill  or  by  any  waste  of  time,  it  was 
soon  over.  Georgiana  herself  had  set  the  limit  of 
half  an  hour,  and,  whatever  it  may  have  cost  her 
of  inner  reluctance,  she  showed  her  resolution  by 
breaking  away  at  the  end  of  that  time,  silencing  her 
lover's  protests  with  a  voluntary  kiss  so  swiftly 
bestowed  that,  in  his  delighted  surprise,  he  let  her 
slip  from  his  grasp.  Again  he  stood  alone  in  the 
garden  while  the  dusk  came  on.  Again  that  weary 
blank  of  lagging  hours  faced  him,  with  the  promise 
of  such  brief  joy  to  compensate  him  at  the  end. 
He  lingered  late  in  the  garden,  now  reviewing  in 
his  memory  the  delectable  scene  of  the  evening  — 
delectable  but  too  fleeting !  —  and  now  repining  at 
the  conditions  under  which  his  love  had  to  subsist. 
"  Oh,  to  be  with  her  one  whole  day  —  one  day  as 
long  as  those  I  pass  in  waiting  for  the  sunset !  " 
was  the  burden  of  his  thought. 

He  stood  near  the  terrace  steps,  taking  his  last 
look  at  the  house  for  the  night.  The  lateness  of 
the  hour,  the  comparative  darkness,  and  perhaps 
the  petulance  of  his  feelings,  made  him  less  than 
usually  cautious  against  observation.  Suddenly  he 
heard  a  patter  of  feet  on  the  terrace,  and  the  voice 
of  a  maid  servant  calling,  "  Puss !  puss !  come, 

140 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

puss !  —  Devil  take  the  cat !  "  Everell  remained 
motionless,  lest  any  sound  might  attract  the  girl's 
attention.  In  a  moment,  a  cat  appeared  at  the  head 
of  the  steps,  glided  along  the  top  of  the  bank,  and 
plunged  amidst  the  shrubbery  of  the  garden.  It  had 
no  sooner  disappeared  than  the  girl  in  chase  arrived 
at  the  edge  of  the  terrace,  where  she  stopped  and 
peered  down  into  the  garden,  launching  imprecations 
at  the  animal  that  had  eluded  her.  Her  eyes  fell 
upon  Everell,  and  her  wrath  died  upon  her  lips. 

She  stood  gaping  as  if  rendered  powerless  by 
fright,  and  Everell  could  think  of  nothing  better 
than  to  continue  perfectly  still.  Wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  and  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  maid, 
he  did  not  move  even  his  eyes,  but  appeared  not  to 
be  aware  of  her  presence.  His  thought  was  that 
this  unlifelike  behaviour  might  cause  the  rustic 
wench  to  take  him  for  an  apparition,  or  a  trick  of 
her  fancy,  the  more  so  as  the  darkness  would  give 
vagueness  to  his  figure.  After  a  few  seconds  of 
this  silent  confrontation,  the  maid,  uttering  a  faint 
wail  of  terror,  apparently  at  the  back  of  her  mouth, 
turned  and  took  to  her  heels.  Everell  profited  by 
her  flight  to  leave  the  garden  instantly,  and  made 
his  best  speed  for  John  Tarby's  castle.  If  the  girl 
told  of  what  she  had  seen,  and  brought  investigators 
to  the  spot,  who  could  find  nothing  to  verify  her 

141 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

account,  they  would  doubtless  believe  she  had  suf- 
fered from  a  delusion.  As  she  herself,  whether 
she  came  to  their  conclusion  or  not,  was  likely  to 
avoid  the  place  after  dark  in  future,  Everell  con- 
sidered that  the  garden  was  not  the  less  safe  as  a 
meeting-place  for  this  occurrence. 

When  he  met  Georgiana  the  next  evening,  he  ex- 
pected some  allusion  by  her  to  the  incident,  as  he  sup- 
posed the  maid  servant  must  have  spread  the  tale 
through  the  household.  But  Georgiana  said  nothing 
of  the  matter.  She  had  indeed  heard  nothing  of  it, 
for  the  isolation  in  which  she  dwelt  in  the  house  was 
copied  by  her  maid,  partly  in  imitation  and  partly 
because,  with  her  Southern  ideas  of  propriety,  Pru- 
dence found  herself  as  much  antagonized  by  the  rude 
Northern  servants  of  the  house  as  by  the  affected 
London  attendants  of  the  visitors.  Thus  she  spent 
as  much  of  her  time  as  possible  in  her  mistress's 
apartments,  big  with  the  secret  entrusted  to  her 
of  the  clandestine  meetings.  Being  thus  on  sniff- 
ing terms  with  her  equals  in  the  servants'  hall,  and 
out  of  their  gossip,  she  remained  in  ignorance  of  the 
kitchen-maid's  adventure.  From  Georgiana's  silence 
on  the  subject,  Everell  inferred  that  the  occurrence 
had  created  no  talk  in  the  house;  and  he  did  not 
mention  it  himself,  lest  Georgiana,  in  her  scruples 
as  to  his  safety  and  her  own  conduct,  might  lessen 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  frequency  of  their  meetings.  His  periods  of 
longing  were  sufficiently  endless,  his  tastes  of  joy 
sufficiently  brief,  as  they  were. 

But  the  kitchen-maid's  adventure  had  not  really 
gone  without  circulation.  "  You  never  told  us  your 
house  was  haunted,  Foxwell,"  said  Lady  Strange, 
meeting  her  host  at  the  breakfast-table,  from  which 
Georgiana  had  already  gone.  Mrs.  Winter  and 
Rashleigh  were  yet  to  appear. 

"  I  never  knew  it  —  till  this  moment,  at  least," 
replied  Foxwell,  stifling  a  yawn  which  owed  itself, 
perhaps,  to  the  punch  or  primero  of  the  previous 
night.  "  Though  every  crumbling  old  brick-heap 
like  this  has  its  ghost  or  so,  no  doubt.  But  what 
do  you  mean?  " 

"  My  waiting-woman  has  been  telling  me  of  a 
strange  figure  that  appeared  to  your  scullery-maid 
the  other  night.  In  the  sunken  garden,  I  believe 
it  was :  a  man  in  a  cloak,  wearing  a  sword." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  ghost,  indeed,"  said  Fox- 
well,  smiling.  "  There  is  certainly  no  such  living 
man  whose  appearance  in  that  garden  is  probable 
—  unless  Rashleigh  has  taken  to  mooning  outdoors 
after  bedtime." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Rashleigh,  who  had  just  entered. 
"  What  are  you  talking  of?  " 

"  My  lady  has  discovered,  through  the  .servants, 
143  " 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

that  a  ghost  walks  in  the  sunken  garden  —  a  man 
in  a  cloak,  with  a  sword  at  his  side.  I  say  it  must 
be  a  ghost  indeed,  and  yet  there  is  this  difficulty: 
suppose  there  are  ghosts  of  human  beings,  what 
of  the  clothes  they  appear  in  ?  What  of  this  ghost's 
cloak  and  sword  ?  —  are  they  real  cloak  and  sword, 
or  are  they  the  ghosts  of  cloak  and  sword  ?  —  and  do 
inanimate  things  have  ghosts  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  ghosts  always  appear  in 
clothes,"  said  Lady  Strange,  quite  ignoring  the 
dilemma,  and  not  entering  into  Foxwell's  skep- 
tical mirth. 

"  And  pray  what  did  the  ghost  do  or  say  while 
the  scullery-maid  was  present  ?  " 

"  Merely  gazed  at  her  in  a  strange,  supernatural 
manner  till  she  ran  away.  But  hadn't  you  best 
question  the  maid  ?  " 

"  By  all  means.  One  ought  to  be  well  informed 
about  the  ghosts  that  haunt  one's  house  —  though 
I  don't  consider  my  ancestors  did  so  much  for  me 
that  I  need  care  a  button  if  one  of  them  does  find 
his  grave  uneasy.  I'll  have  the  girl  up  for  interro- 
gation after  breakfast." 

But  this  promise  was  driven  from  Foxwell's  mind 
just  as  the  time  came  to  perform  it.  A  visitor  was 
announced,  whose  name  caused  him  surprise:  it 
was  that  of  Mr.  Thornby. 

144 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  What  should  bring  him  to  see  me?  "  said  Fox- 
well,  showing  his  astonishment  to  his  guests.  "  'Tis 
my  lubberly  neighbour,  of  whom  I  have  told  you. 
He  abominates  me  because  I  sometimes  pit  my 
powers  of  speech  against  his  boorish  arrogance,  and 
show  him  what  a  bumpkin  he  is.  I  thought  he  was 
sworn  never  to  cross  my  threshold." 

Ruled  by  courtesy  and  curiosity,  Foxwell  went 
immediately  to  the  adjoining  drawing-room,  where 
he  found  his  enemy  standing  on  the  hearth,  his  legs 
wide  apart,  and  his  burly  figure  clad  in  a  riding 
costume  neither  well-fitting  nor  new. 


145 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THREATS 

SOMETHING  confident  and  overbearing  in  Thorn- 
by's  look  went  to  Foxwell's  intelligence  at  once,  and 
checked  for  an  instant  the  speech  on  his  lips.  But 
he  quickly  recovered  his  nonchalance,  and  began 
as  if  he  noticed  nothing  unusual : 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Thornby.  I  am  much 
honoured.  Pray  be  seated,  sir." 

"  I'd  as  lief  stand,  sir,"  was  the  blunt  answer. 
"  Much  honoured  you  feel,  I  dare  say !  " 

"And  why  not?"  said  Foxwell,  pleasantly. 
"  You  do  yourself  a  great  injustice,  surely,  if  you 
don't  consider  your  visit  an  honour  to  the  fortunate 
recipient.  You  must  not  undervalue  yourself." 

"  Well,  sir,  you'll  see  how  much  honour  I  mean 
by  coming  here,  when  you've  learnt  what  brings 
me." 

"  That,  I  confess,  I  am  impatient  to  know.  But 
really,  will  you  not  sit  ?  " 

"  No,  sir !  I  sha'n't  stay  long  enough  to  tire  my 
146 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

legs  with  standing.  My  visit  will  be  short,  I  promise 
you." 

"  I  perceive  you  are  in  a  mood  of  shortness." 

"  I  can  choose  my  own  moods,  sir,"  said  the 
Squire,  rendered  more  savage  by  every  successive 
speech  of  his  enemy.  "  And  I  choose  short  moods 
for  my  visits  to  you.  Not  that  I  meant  to  pay 
you  a  visit  when  I  left  home  this  morning.  My 
business  took  me  past  your  gate,  and,  as  I  have 
something  for  your  ears,  I  thought  I'd  as  well  say  it 
soon  as  late." 

"  A  very  wise  thought ;  for  accidents  will  happen, 
and  'twould  be  a  pity  if  anything  so  interesting 
should  be  left  unsaid  —  for  I  know  it  must  be 
interesting." 

"  Maybe  you'll  find  it  so,  ecod !  As  for  leaving 
things  unsaid,  lemme  tell  you,  sir,  that's  a  policy  I 
recommend  to  you  in  future,  whenever  you  feel 
inclined  to  try  your  wit  upon  me.  If  a  witty  thing, 
as  you  consider  it,  comes  into  your  head  to  say 
against  me,  leave  it  unsaid.  That's  my  com- 
mands, sir,  and  I  look  to  see  'em  obeyed." 

"  Commands  ?  Upon  my  soul,  Mr.  Thornby,  — 
pardon  my  smiling,  —  but  you  are  exceedingly 
amusing." 

"  Smile  your  bellyfull ;  you  may  laugh,  too : 
we'll  see  which  on  us  laughs  last.  Ecod,  we'll  see 

147 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

that!  Try  some  of  your  town  wit  upon  me  the 
next  time  we  meet  in  company!  Try  it,  and  see 
what  happens." 

"  Can't  you  spare  my  curiosity  the  suspense  by 
telling  me  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can.  This  is  what'll  happen :  —  I'll 
answer  you  back  by  asking  what  you  think  of  a  man 
who  robs  the  dead." 

"  Robs  the  dead  ? "  quietly  repeated  Foxwell, 
puzzled. 

"  Ay,  a  dead  body,  in  some  such  place  as  Covent 
Garden,  for  example.  —  Eh,  that  touches  you, 
does  it?" 

Foxwell's  face  had  indeed  undergone  a  change: 
for  an  instant  he  was  quite  pale  and  staring.  But 
he  recovered  his  outward  equanimity. 

"  Please  explain  yourself,"  he  said,  with  com- 
posure. 

"  A  word  to  the  wise  is  enough,  sir.  If  ever 
again  you  try  to  put  me  down  afore  company,  or 
dare  to  take  first  place  o'  me  anywheres,  I'll  tell  the 
world  who  got  Lord  Hilby's  money  that  night  in 
Covent  Garden." 

Foxwell  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  then  replied  as 
calmly  as  before,  "  Are  you  walking  in  a  dream,  Mr. 
Thornby?  Really,  I  don't  understand  you.  What 
is  Lord  Hilby's  money  to  me  ?  " 

148 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  No  use  trying  that  game  upon  me,  Foxwell. 
You  know  all,  and  I  know  all,  and  there's  an  end. 
You've  heard  my  commands:  act  as  you  think 
best." 

"  Sir,  I  know  nothing.  Your  words  are  gibberish 
to  me,  and  I  say  but  this:  if  you  attempt  to  raise 
any  slander  against  me,  be  sure  I  will  make  you 
answer  —  " 

"  And  I'll  answer,  ecod,  by  producing  this  here 
letter,"  blurted  Thornby,  bringing  from  his  pocket 
the  document  we  have  already  seen  in  the  hands  of 
Jeremiah  Filson,  and  holding  it  high,  with  the  signed 
part  in  Foxwell's  view!,  "  which  you  wrote  in  the 
sponging-house  to  Sir  John  Thisleford,  and  which 
anybody  who  knows  your  hand  can  swear  to  —  as 
your  face  owns  to  it  now.  '  If  you  don't  help  me 
out  of  this,  I  will  confess  all,  and  let  the  world 
know  who  got  Lord  Hilby's  money  that  night,'  says 
you,  in  black  and  white.  '  Confess  all,'  d'ye  see? 
Signed  '  R.  Foxwell.'  Your  wit  failed  you  that 
time,  I'm  a-thinking.  What  'ud  the  county  say  if 
I  exhibited  this  here  bit  o'  writing?  Even  your 
town  friends,  as  I  hear  be  a-visiting  you,  wtould 
find  this  more  nor  they  could  swallow,  I  dare  say." 

"  Let  me  see  the  letter  —  closer,"  said  Foxwell, 
in  a  hushed  and  quaking  voice. 

"  I  value  it  too  much  as  a  bit  o*  your  beloved 
149 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

handwritin'."  The  Squire  repocketed  it  carefully, 
with  a  grim  chuckle  at  his  own  humour.  "  As  to 
how  I  shall  use  it,  that  depends  partly  on  how  you 
use  me.  But  I  don't  promise  anything.  I  hold  it 
over  your  head,  neighbour  Foxwell,  —  like  the 
sword  of  Dionassius  in  the  story-book  —  over  your 
head,  ecod!  Ha!  Good  day,  Foxwell.  Go  back 
to  your  pleasures  —  I'll  show  myself  out." 

Foxwjell  made  an  effort  to  regain  his  self-pos- 
session. "  'Tis  a  forgery  —  I  defy  you  —  this  is  a 
trumped-up  tale  —  " 

"  We  shall  see.  You'd  go  near  killing  to  get  the 
letter  from  me,  I'll  warrant."  With  this  parting 
shot,  his  heavy  features  stretched  in  a  leer  of 
triumph,  the  Squire  stalked  from  the  room,  leaving 
Foxwell  —  silent  and  shaken  —  to  his  thoughts. 

The  victorious  Squire  had  to  pass  through  the 
wide  entrance-hall  to  reach  the  forecourt,  where  his 
man  Bartholomew  awaited  with  the  horses.  He 
stopped  in  the  hall,  which  was  for  the  moment 
deserted,  in  order  to  refold  the  precious  letter  and 
place  it  more  securely.  As  he  pocketed  it  once  more, 
he  turned  his  glance  toward  the  closed  door  of  the 
drawing-room,  soliloquizing  after  this  fashion,  "  I'll 
make  him  play  the  whipped  cur  afore  I've  done  with 
him.  He  shall  come  when  I  call,  so  he  shall,  —  and 
go  when  I  bid,  and  speak  when  I  allow,  and  hold 

150 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

his  tongue  when  I  command.  You  fine  beau  of  the 
town,  you'll  make  a  jest  of  us  country  gentlemen, 
will  you?  —  you'll  teach  us  manners,  will  you?  — 
Eh,  who's  this?" 

The  hall  was  panelled  in  oak,  decorated  with  heads 
of  stags  and  foxes,  provided  with  a  large  fireplace, 
and  furnished  with  chairs  and  settles.  At  one  side, 
the  stairway  began  which  led  to  the  upper  floors, 
and  the  Squire's  ejaculation  was  caused  by  the 
appearance  of  somebody  on  those  stairs  —  a  young 
lady,  rather  slight,  but  well-shaped,  with  a  very 
pretty  face  distinguished  by  a  somewhat  rebellious 
expression;  and  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that  set  the 
Squire  agape  with  the  wonder  of  a  new  sensation, 
as  they  rested  for  an  instant  full  upon  him. 

"  Sure  I  suppose  you  be  the  niece  that  came  home 
t'other  day,"  said  the  Squire,  as  she  stepped  from 
the  lowest  stair.  He  had  not  relaxed  his  gaze  from 
his  first  sight  of  her,  nor  did  he  now. 

Georgiana  replied  by  making  a  curtsey,  and  was 
about  to  pass  on.  But  Mr.  Thornby,  with  as  great 
politeness  as  he  could  put  into  his  tone,  detained  her 
as  much  by  an  unconscious  gesture  as  by  speech. 

"  Sure  I  heard  tell  as  Foxwell's  niece  had  come 
home,  but  I  ne'er  expected  to  see  such  a  young  lady ! 
Why,  miss,  or  mistress,  begging  your  pardon  if  I 
make  too  free,  but  there  bean't  your  match  in  the 

151 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

county;  that  there  bean't  —  I'll  take  my  oath  of 
it !  I'm  your  neighbour,  Thomas  Thornby,  at  your 
service.  Mayhap  you've  heard  o'  me." 

"  I  have  heard  your  name,  Mr.  Thornby,"  said 
Georgiana,  looking  quite  tolerantly  upon  him. 

"  But  not  heard  much  good  o'  me,  if  you  heard 
it  from  your  uncle,  I'll  warrant.  You  mustn't  be- 
lieve all  he  has  said  against  me,  Miss  Foxwell.  'Tis 
like  he'll  give  a  different  account  o'  me  after  this: 
I've  just  had  a  talk  with  him,  and  he  knows  me  a 
little  better.  Ecod,  miss,  I  hope  you  and  me  can  be 
good  neighbours,  at  all  events.  Such  a  face!  — 
excuse  the  freedom,  mistress,  but  we  don't  run 
across  such  faces  every  day  hereabouts.  There'll 
be  some,  that  think  themselves  beauties,  will  turn 
green  when  they  see  you  at  the  assembly  ball. 
Ecod,  we  shall  have  somebody  worth  a  toast  now; 
for  between  you  and  me,  the  beauties  of  this  neigh- 
bourhood don't  muster  enough  good  looks  among 
'em  all  to  do  credit  to  the  punch  we  drink  their 
healths  in.  At  any  rate,  that's  my  opinion,  and 
explains  why  I'm  still  a  bachelor.  I'm  not  easy 
pleased,  ma'am;  no  doubt  I  look  a  plain  fellow  in 
these  here  old  clothes,  but  anybody'll  tell  you  how 
fastidious  Tom  Thornby  is  when  it  comes  to  dogs, 
horses,  and  women.  'Tis  well  known,  ma'am." 

"  I  am  the  more  obliged  for  your  compliments, 
152 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

sir;  and  I  wish  you  good  morning,"  said  Georgiana, 
amiably,  and,  after  another  curtsey,  performed  with 
unexpected  swiftness,  she  got  away  by  the  nearest 
door  before  her  new  admirer  could  summon  an 
idea  for  another  speech. 

Thornby  stared  wistfully  at  the  door  by  which 
she  had  left.  Indeed  he  made  a  step  or  two  toward 
it ;  but,  thinking  better,  stopped  and  drew  a  ponder- 
ous sigh.  A  servant  came  into  the  hall  from  the 
forecourt,  whereupon  the  Squire  abruptly  took  his 
departure.  As  he  rode  mutely  out  of  the  courtyard, 
followed  by  Bartholomew,  his  countenance  betok- 
ened thoughts  quite  other  than  those  wjith  which  he 
had  left  Foxwell's  presence  a  minute  or  two  earlier. 
When  he  had  passed  through  the  village,  Thornby 
motioned  his  man  to  ride  beside  him,  and  began 
to  converse  upon  Mr.  Foxwell  and  his  present  habits. 
In  the  course  of  the  talk,  it  came  out,  as  Bartholo- 
mew had  been  informed  by  Caleb  while  waiting 
in  the  courtyard,  that  Foxwell  and  his  guests  were 
accustomed  to  make  some  excursion  on  horseback 
every  day,  leaving  the  niece  at  home.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  knowledge  was  that  next  day,  soon 
after  the  party  had  sallied  forth  as  usual,  a  servant 
came  to  Miss  Foxwell  in  her  own  small  parlour  to 
say  that  Mr.  Thornby  waited  upon  her  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

153 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

Mystified,  but  desiring  not  to  offend,  she  went  to 
him  immediately.  He  was  sprucely  dressed,  beam- 
ing, and  all  deference.  For  two  hours  he  sat  and 
sustained  the  chief  burden  of  a  general  conversa- 
tion upon  everything  in  the  neighbourhood.  While 
he  was  more  moderate  and  indirect  in  his  frequent 
compliments  than  he  had  been  on  the  previous  day, 
he  maintained  a  steady  gaze  of  admiration,  no  less 
overpowering.  Georgiana,  wearied  to  death,  had 
finally  to  plead  household  duties  in  order  to  dis- 
lodge him. 

The  following  day  was  Sunday,  and  Miss  Fox- 
well,  making  her  first  appearance  at  the  village 
church,  found  herself  again  the  object  of  the  Squire's 
constant  attention,  as  indeed  of  the  whole  congrega- 
tion's, although  she  divided  the  latter  with  the  Lon- 
don ladies.  That  evening  she  was  discussed  at 
Thornby  Hall  by  the  cronies  who  happened  to  be 
sharing  the  Squire's  bachelor  table;  and  such  was 
the  praise  uttered  by  several  gay  dogs  who  consid- 
ered themselves  devilish  good  judges  that  Mr. 
Thornby  was  kept  secretly  alternating  between  ela- 
tion and  jealousy.  It  needed  only  this  approval  and 
covetousness  on  the  part  of  others,  to  complete  the 
Squire's  sense  of  the  young  lady's  surpassing  excel- 
lence. 

In  the  morning,  to  Bartholomew's  considerable 
154 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

wonder,  Mr.  Thornby  again  discovered  business 
that  took  him  past  Foxwell  Court.  He  had  not  the 
courage  against  appearing  ridiculous,  to  repeat  his 
visit  so  soon,  but  he  rode  very  slowly  in  passing  the 
place,  both  going  and  coming;  and,  welcoming  a 
pretext  for  remaining  as  long  as  possible  in  the 
near  vicinity,  he  no  sooner  saw,  through  the  door- 
way of  the  village  ale-house,  a  man  who  was  now  a 
guest  there,  than  he  drew)  up  his  horse  with  alacrity, 
saying  to  his  attendant,  "  The  very  fellow  I  desired 
to  see:  we'll  tarry  here  awhile,  Bartholomew." 

The  man  in  the  ale-house  came  forth  as  Mr. 
Thornby  dismounted,  and  offered  that  respectful 
greeting1  which  the  Squire  was  so  conscious  of 
deserving  and  Jeremiah  Filson  so  capable  of  bestow- 
ing. 

"  Good  day,  Filson ;  good  day  t'ye.  I  don't  wish 
to  come  indoors :  we'll  walk  to  and  fro  here  on  the 
green.  —  I've  been  anxious  to  see  you,  Filson,  to 
know  how]  you're  faring  in  respect  of  your  Jacobite." 

"  Poorly,  sir,  poorly  as  yet ;  though  I  take  it  most 
kind  of  your  Worship  to  be  concerned  upon  the 
matter." 

"  Concerned  ?  In  course  —  w'hy  the  devil  not  ? 
Ain't  I  a  magistrate?  Didn't  I  give  you  the  wiar- 
rant?  D'ye  think  I  dropped  the  matter  there? 
I'm  as  keen  upon  punishing  the  rebels  as  any  man 

155 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

in  England.  Once  you  discover  where  the  fellow 
is,  you'll  see  how  ready  my  officers  are  to  help  you 
take  him." 

Filson  was  rather  surprised  at  this  sudden  zeal, 
for  the  Squire,  after  purchasing  the  Foxwell  letter 
and  granting  the  Everell  warrant,  had  not  shown  a 
desire  for  more  of  Filson's  society,  so  that  Jeremiah 
had  been  forced  to  curry  favour  with  the  justice's 
clerk,  that  he  might  rely  upon  the  ready  coopera- 
tion of  the  legal  officers  in  apprehending  the  rebel. 
But  he  kept  his  surprise  to  himself. 

"  I'm  quite  sure  of  that,  sir.  I  hope  I  shall  track 
the  man  to  his  cover,  with  the  aid  of  Providence.  I 
hate  to  give  a  thing  up,  sir,  once  I've  set  myself  to 
do  it.  When  I  start  upon  a  chase,  no  matter  what's 
the  game,  I  can't  leave  it  unfinished,  and  that's 
why  I  still  linger  here,  though  at  some  little  ex- 
pense to  myself.  But  we  act  as  wte're  made;  and 
I'm  made  like  that,  your  Worship." 

"  It  does  you  credit,  Filson :  I  like  a  staying 
hound.  But  are  you  sure,  now,  the  man  is  still  in 
this  neighbourhood  ?  " 

"  I  don't  presume  to  be  sure  of  anything,  sir ;  but 
I  trace  him  to  this  neighbourhood  and  no  farther. 
'Twas  on  or  about  this  very  spot,  your  honour,  that 
he  was  seen  by  the  postilion  whom  I  met  that  same 
night  at  the  inn  where  I  had  the  honour  of  first 

156 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

making  your  acquaintance.  The  next  day,  you'll 
remember,  I  had  the  privilege  of  transacting  some 
business  with  your  Worship.  I  came  directly  from 
your  house  to  this,  but  my  gentleman  had  fled  the 
night  before.  He  told  the  landlord  a  cock-and- 
bull  story  of  having  found  a  wagon  to  take  him 
on  to  Burndale.  But  the  landlord  spied  on  him,  and 
saw  no  wagon  at  the  place  he  said  it  was  waiting. 
Furthermore,  the  landlord  declares  the  gentleman 
disappeared  from  sight  at  that  very  place.  It  was 
night-time,  and  the  truth  must  be,  that  the  gentle- 
man turned  aside  from  the  road.  Howsoever,  that's 
the  last  account  I  can  get  of  him  —  his  disappearance 
at  the  bridge  yonder.  I've  been  to  Burndale,  but 
no  such  person  has  been  seen  there,  or  between  here 
and  there.  Neither  is  there  any  trace  of  his 
doubling  back  over  his  course.  And,  besides,  if  he 
was  bound  for  Burndale,  or  that  side  of  the  kingdom, 
why  should  he  have  come  so  far  by  the  road  I  found 
him  in  ?  —  there  are  shorter  ways  to  Burndale  from 
Scotland.  No,  sir,  if  I  may  express  an  opinion  to 
your  Honour,  his  business  must  have  been  in  this 
neighbourhood,  not  beyond  it;  he  has  found  snug 
hiding  hereabouts,  but  I'll  have  him  out  yet." 
"  Trust  you  for  a  true  terrier,  eh,  Filson." 
"  Yes,  sir,  with  your  Worship's  approval  and  the 
forces  of  the  law;  to  support  me.  I  failed  in  vigi- 

157 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

lance  that  day  at  the  inn  —  allowed  the  corporeal 
desire  of  sleep  to  get  the  better  of  me,  and  was 
punished  by  the  man  slipping  through  my  fingers. 
But  Providence,  after  teaching  me  the  lesson,  sent 
the  postilion  to  hear  my  belated  inquiries,  which 
I  ought  never  to  have  postponed  to  the  needs  of  the 
body.  The  question  is,  where  could  my  gentleman 
have  gone  when  he  vanished  under  the  nose  of 
this  old  fool  —  begging  your  Worship's  pardon  — 
that  night?" 

"  There's  the  Foxwell  estate  begins  just  beyond 
that  bridge." 

"  Yes,  on  one  side  of  the  road.  And  the  Dornley 
on  the  other.  I've  quietly  seen  Mr.  Dornley,  after 
making  sure  of  his  loyalty  in  politics,  and  furnished 
him  with  a  written  description  of  my  gentleman. 
I've  hesitated  to  approach  Mr.  Foxwell,  lest  perhaps 
you  might  have  told  him  how  you  came  by  that 
letter." 

"  No  fear  o'  that ;  but,  if  he  saw  you,  he'd  soon 
enough  guess,  take  my  word  on't." 

"  Why,  scarcely,  sir,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so. 
If  you  told  him  that  Sir  John  Thisleford's  former 
valet  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  if  you  gave 
some  notion  of  my  present  appearance,  then  he 
might  indeed  guess.  But  otherwise  I'll  warrant  he 
wouldn't  know  me.  You  see,  sir,  wte  look  different 

158 


out  of  livery,  and  my  name  wasn't  Filson  when  I 
served  Sir  John ;  and  in  various  ways  my  manners 
have  altered  —  for  the  better,  I  trust.  So  if  your 
Honour  has  given  him  no  hint  of  the  matter,  I  think 
I  may  safely  go  and  solicit  his  interest  in  my  quest." 

"  Oh,  do  as  you  see  fit,  man.  If  he  discovers 
you,  'tis  your  back  must  abide  the  cudgel,  nobody 
else's.  Ecod,  the  letter  will  serve  my  purpose  just 
as  well,  whether  or  not  he  knows  how  I  came  by  it." 

Jeremiah  Filson  was  not  long  in  availing  himself 
of  the  security  with  which  he  now  felt  he  might 
interview  Foxwell.  He  thanked  Providence  he  had 
not  been  too  late  to  stipulate  against  the  Squire's 
mentioning  him  in  connection  with  the  letter,  which 
he  had  neglected  to  do  at  the  time  of  their  trans- 
action. The  afternoon  of  that  same  day  saw  him 
make  his  very  civil  and  yet  not  obsequious  approach, 
the  manner  of  which  rather  recommended  him  to 
Foxwell,  as  being  unmistakably  of  London.  Learn- 
ing that  his  business  was  of  a  private  nature,  Fox- 
well  heard  him  in  the  drawing-room,  where  Filson 
introduced  himself  with  a  careful  ambiguity  as  upon 
a  business  "  in  the  interest  of  Government."  Fox- 
well  listened  with  polite  attention  to  the  glib 
description  of  the  "  fugitive  rebel,  one  Charles 
Everell,  who  was  of  the  Pretender's  body-guard  of 
gentlemen  at  Culloden,"  and  who  was  suspected  of 

159 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

being  now  in  hiding  in  the  neighbourhood,  possibly 
upon  the  Foxwell  estate. 

Filson,  being  satisfied  by  his  hearer's  unconcerned 
manner  that  Foxwell  neither  knew  nor  cared  any- 
thing about  the  Jacobite,  explained  that,  while  a 
justice's  w'arrant  had  been  made  out,  upon  his  affi- 
davit, to  "  take  and  apprehend  "  this  Charles  Everell, 
he  was  prosecuting  the  search  quietly  rather  than  by 
such  public  means  as  might  give  the  refugee  the 
alarm.  He  was,  therefore,  in  this  private  manner 
soliciting  the  cooperation  of  the  loyal  gentlemen  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  begging  that,  in  the  event 
of  their  discovering  such  a  person,  either  by  chance 
or  as  a  result  of  investigations  their  loyalty  might 
prompt,  they  would  cause  the  man  to  be  detained, 
and  would  send  word  to  him,  Jeremiah  Filson,  at 
the  ale-house  in  the  village.  "  For,  d'ye  see,  sir, 
I've  arranged  matters  that  I  can  put  my  hand  on 
the  justice  officers  at  short  notice.  I  shall  be  the 
chief  witness  against  the  rebel,  and  I  know  where 
to  find  another,  as  two  are  required.  The  other,  in 
fact,  is  at  Carlisle,  where  the  trials  are  now  on." 

Foxwell,  not  at  all  interested,  went  as  far  as 
loyalty  ordered,  in  saying  that,  if  occasion  arose  for 
his  services  in  the  matter,  he  would  act  as  duty 
required;  and  offering  the  spy  the  freedom  of  the 
estate  in  the  prosecution  of  inquiries.  Filson,  after 

160 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

a  profound  bow  of  acknowledgment,  handed  Fox- 
well  a  written  description  of  the  rebel,  calling  atten- 
tion to  his  own  name  and  address  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sheet;  declared  himself  the  other's  very  humble 
servant,  bowed  as  low  as  before,  and  took  his  leave. 

Foxwell  glanced  carelessly  over  the  written  de- 
scription, and  then  thrust  it  unfolded  into  his  pocket. 
It  had  not  power  to  drive  from  his  mind  the  vexa- 
tious subject  already  lodged  there.  He  frowned 
and  sighed,  and  took  an  impatient  turn  up  and  down 
the  room.  Then,  forcing  his  brow  to  smoothness 
and  the  corners  of  his  mouth  to  pleasantness,  he 
returned  to  his  friends  on  the  terrace. 

"  You  laughed  at  me  the  other  day,  Foxwell," 
said  Lady  Strange,  as  he  approached,  "  for  telling 
you  the  place  was  haunted.  But  what  do  you  say 
now?  The  ghost  has  been  seen  again,  in  the  old 
garden  yonder;  and  not  only  that  same  ghost  —  a 
man  in  a  cloak  —  but  a  female  figure  as  well." 

"  Two  female  figures,  the  girl  said,"  corrected 
Mrs.  Winter. 

"  Wonderful,  most  wonderful !  "  exclaimed  Fox- 
well,  smiling.  "And  whence  comes  this  news?" 

"  The  keeper's  daughter  has  just  told  us,"  said 
Rashleigh.  "  Her  sweetheart,  it  appears,  was  com- 
ing last  night  from  the  village  to  see  her,  and  took 
a  short  way  through  the  fields  into  the  park.  'Twas 

161 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

he  saw  the  three  figures  in  the  garden;  and  one  of 
them,  it  seems,  was  like  that  seen  by  the  scullery- 
maid  the  other  evening." 

"  The  scullery-maid  ?  "  said  Foxwell.  "  I  re- 
member :  I  promised  to  question  her,  but  something 
put  it  out  of  my  mind.  Well,  'tis  not  too  late: 
we'll  catechize  her  now  —  and  the  keeper's  daughter, 
too." 

But  the  keeper's  daughter  had  gone  home  to  the 
lodge,  and  the  examination  was  confined  to  the 
kitchen  girl,  who  came  to  the  summons  as  much 
frightened  as  if  she  were  brought,  not  to  tell  of  a 
ghost,  but  to  face  one.  Foxwell  and  his  visitors 
seated  themselves  in  the  hall  to  hear  her  story,  the 
other  servants  being  excluded.  By  patient  interro- 
gation, Foxwell  contrived  to  elicit  an  account  hardly 
more  circumstantial  than  Lady  Strange  had  pre- 
viously given  him.  The  girl  had  pursued  the  cat 
with  the  intention  of  employing  it  against  the  mice 
in  the  dormitory  of  the  maids.  Drawn  thus  toward 
the  garden,  she  had  perceived  the  motionless  cloaked 
figure,  which  had  stared  at  her  in  a  strange,  death- 
like manner.  It  wore  a  sword,  and  she  thought  that 
in  life  "  the  gentleman  might  have  been  a  king's 
officer,"  though  she  could  not  say  what  made  her 
think  so. 

The  word  "  officer  "  seemed  to  touch  some  asso- 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

ciation  in  Foxwell's  mind.  His  hand  went  to  the 
pocket  containing  the  paper  Filson  had  given  him, 
and  he  showed  a  faint  increase  of  interest  in  the 
few  answjers  the  girl  had  yet  to  make.  When  he 
had  dismissed  her,  he  turned  smilingly  to  his 
guests : 

"  Well,  we  must  avail  ourselves  of  this  ghost 
while  it  is  in  the  humour  of  haunting  us.  Kind  for- 
tune seems  to  have  sent  it  for  your  entertainment. 
What  say  you  to  a  ghost-hunt?  " 

"  How  are  ghosts  usually  hunted  ?  "  asked  Rash- 
leigh;  "with  hounds?  beagles?  terriers?" 

"  No,  that  would  not  do,"  said  Foxwell,  thought- 
fully. "  As  we  know  where  it  appears  —  for  it  has 
been  seen  twice  in  the  sunken  garden,  according  to 
the  evidence  —  we  had  best  set  a  trap  for  it.  What 
do  you  think,  ladies?  It  may  help  enliven  the 
night  for  us." 

"  I  should  dearly  love  to  see  a  ghost,"  said  Lady 
Strange ;  "  but  what  manner  of  trap  would  you 
use?  Sure  such  an  insubstantial  thing  can't  be 
held  by  any  machine  of  wood  and  iron." 

"  A  trap  composed  of  three  or  four  stout  fellows 
armed  with  cudgels,"  suggested  Foxwell,  "  would 
doubtless  serve  to  hold  the  creature  till  Rashleigh 
and  I  could  arrive  with  our  swords." 

"But  a  ghost  is  like  air,  is  it  not?"  said  Lady 
163 


Strange.  "  It  can't  be  caught,  or  stopped,  or  even 
felt." 

"  I  have  always  suspected  that  a  ghost  that  can  be 
seen  can  be  felt,  especially  if  it  wears  clothes,"  re- 
plied Foxwell.  "  However  it  be,  here  is  an  oppor- 
tunity to  settle  the  question,  —  if  the  ghost  continues 
to  haunt  the  same  place.  We  will  set  our  trap  this 
evening;  if  we  catch  nothing,  we'll  try  again  to- 
morrow; and  so  on,  till  something  occurs,  or  we 
grow  tired.  We  had  best  tell  nobody  of  our  purpose : 
the  ghost  may  have  accomplices.  Pray  let  none 
of  the  servants  know,  but  the  men  I  employ  in  the 
affair." 

He  bestirred  himself  at  once  in  preparations,  glad 
of  having  found  fresh  means,  not  only  of  distracting 
his  own  thoughts  somewhat  from  the  letter  in  Squire 
Thornby's  possession,  but  also  of  blinding  his  guests 
to  the  disturbance  of  mind  which  that  matter  still 
caused  him. 

His  plans  were  simple.  Choosing  three  men 
rather  for  stoutness  of  heart  than  for  stoutness 
of  body,  though  they  were  not  deficient  in  the 
latter  respect  either,  he  instructed  them  to  post  them- 
selves, while  it  was  still  day,  in  well-concealed  places 
at  different  sides  of  the  garden.  Two,  the  gardener 
and  the  groom,  were  provided  with  cudgels,  while 
the  keeper  took  a  fowling-piece,  which  he  was  not 

164- 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  fire  except  in  extreme  circumstances.  At  the 
appearance  of  the  ghost  in  the  garden,  the  keeper 
was  to  utter  a  signal,  whereupon  Foxwell  and  his 
guests  —  who  were  to  pass  the  evening  as  usual  at 
the  card-table  —  would  come  forth  as  quietly  as 
possible,  the  gentlemen  with  their  swords  ready  to 
enforce  the  intruder's  surrender.  Should  the  ghost 
attempt  flight  before  the  gentlemen  could  arrive, 
the  three  servants  were  to  close  round  him,  using 
their  weapons  only  as  a  last  resource,  and  after  due 
warning  —  for  the  ghost  was  probably  a  gentleman, 
and  Foxwell  would  have  it  treated  as  such.  The 
three  watchers  were  to  go  singly  to  their  places  of 
concealment,  entering  the  garden  directly  from  a 
postern  in  the  ruinous  eastern  wing  of  the  house, 
so  that  nobody  outside  of  the  garden  itself  could  see 
them. 

"  And  is  not  the  pretty  pouting  niece  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  this  sport  ?  "  asked  Rashleigh. 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Foxwell,  with  a  frown. 
"  She  has  elected  to  keep  out  of  all  our  amusements, 
We  can  spare  her  company  in  this.  If  the  young 
prude  finds  satisfaction  in  holding  aloof,  for  God's 
sake  let  her  do  so.  She  disapproves  of  so  many 
things  we  do  and  say,  'tis  very  like  she  would  dis- 
approve of  this.  Threatening  a  ghost  with  a  cudgel, 
egad !  —  she  might  take  it  into  her  head  to  play  the 

165 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

spoil-sport  —  you   know   the   malice   of   excessive 
virtue." 

So  nothing  was  spoken  of  the  matter  at  dinner. 
This  meal  —  which  occurred  at  the  London  hour, 
in  the  late  afternoon  —  was  now  the  only  regular 
occasion  upon  which  Georgiana  joined  the  company. 
For  the  passing  of  her  days,  she  had  her  books,  the 
care  of  her  wardrobe  and  apartments,  her  music, 
drawing,  embroidery,  and  walks  —  for  she  took 
these,  though  never  on  the  side  of  the  house  toward 
the  park,  lest  Everell  might  risk  his  safety  by  ap- 
proaching her.  She  still  met  that  gentleman  each 
evening,  at  a  later  hour  now  than  at  first;  and  he 
it  was  that  occupied  her  thoughts  all  the  day,  what- 
ever the  employment  of  her  hands  and  feet.  She 
acknowledged  to  herself  her  love  for  him,  and  won- 
dered, sometimes  with  hope  but  oftener  with  deep 
misgiving,  what  the  end  would  be.  At  times  she 
had  a  poignant  sense  of  the  danger  he  was  in  by 
remaining  near  her,  but  she  shrank  even  then  from 
sending  him  away,  for  their  separation  must  be  long 
and  might  be  eternal.  As  deeply  as  he,  though  less 
vehemently,  did  she  lament  the  circumstances  that 
compelled  them  to  be  secret  and  brief  in  their  meet- 
ings. She  was  by  no  means  of  that  romantic  turn 
of  mind  which  would  have  made  the  affair  the  more 
attractive  for  being  clandestine.  People  who  do 

166 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

romantic  things  are  not  necessarily  people  of 
romantic  notions:  it  is  a  resolute  fidelity  to  some 
cause  or  purpose,  that  leads  many  a  generous  but 
matter-of-fact  hero  or  heroine  into  romantic  situa- 
tions. Indeed,  is  it  ever  otherwise  with  your  true 
hero  and  your  true  heroine?  Are  not  the  others 
but  shams,  or  at  best  poseurs?  Georgiana  followed 
courageously  where  love  led ;  but  because  she  really 
loved,  and  not  because  the  conditions  were  romantic : 
she  was  no  Lydia  Languish  —  she  would  joyfully 
have  dispensed  with  the  romance. 

On  this  particular  evening,  the  conversation  at 
dinner  took  a  turn  which  gave  it  a  disquieting  sig- 
nificance to  her,  though  she  bore  no  part  in  it  her- 
self. Lady  Strange  had  mentioned  a  certain  young 
lord  as  having  died  because  he  preferred  his  love 
to  his  life.  Foxwell  had  politely  laughed.  Lady 
Strange  had  somewhat  offendedly  stood  by  her  as- 
sertion, whereupon  Foxwell  had  declared  the  thing 
unknown  in  nature.  Mrs.  Winter  supported  him; 
but  Rashleigh  took  his  cousin's  side,  saying,  "  What ! 
no  man  ever  died  for  love,  then?  Surely  there 
have  been  cases,  Bob." 

"  Men  have  been  brought  to  death  by  their  love- 
affairs,  I  grant  you,"  said  Foxwell,  "  but  that  is 
because  circumstances  arose  which  they  had  not 
foreseen,  and  from  which  they  could  not  escape. 

167 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

They  have  even  risked  their  lives  to  prosecute  their 
amours,  but  risking  one's  life  upon  fair  odds  is  a 
vastly  different  thing  from  deliberately  offering  it 
in  exchange  for  the  indulgence  of  one's  love.  That 
is  what  my  lady's  words  really  mean :  '  preferring 
one's  love  to  one's  life.'  Such  bargains  are  men- 
tioned in  ancient  history  —  as  of  the  youth  who, 
being  deeply  in  love  with  a  queen,  agreed  to  be 
slain  at  the  end  of  a  certain  time  if  he  might  pass 
that  time  as  her  accepted  lover.  Only  such  an  act 
can  really  be  described  as  giving  one's  life  for 
love;  and  not  the  getting  killed  unintentionally  in 
some  matter  incident  to  a  love-affair." 

"  But  men  have  killed  themselves  at  the  loss  of 
the  women  they  loved,"  urged  Lady  Strange. 
"  There  was  Romeo,  that  Garrick  plays  so  beauti- 
fully." 

"  'Tis  the  work  of  a  poet  who  says  in  another 
place,  '  Men  have  died  from  time  to  time,  but  not 
for  love.'  When  men  kill  themselves  at  the  loss  of 
a  woman,  you  will  find  they  have  lost  other  things 
as  well  —  fortune  and  reputation ;  or  their  wits,  in 
drink." 

But  Lady  Strange  held  that  a  true  lover  would 
not  hesitate  to  mortgage  his  life  for  a  season  of 
love,  if  the  latter  could  not  be  obtained  by  any 
means  at  a  lower  price.  "  If  he  is  young,  and  in 

168 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

love  for  the  first  time,"  added  Rashleigh.  But 
Foxwell  and  Mrs.  Winter  remained  cynical,  and  the 
latter  became  even  derisive,  so  that  the  dispute  grew 
warm  on  the  part  of  the  two  ladies,  who  did  not  dis- 
dain to  colour  their  remarks  with  sly  personalities. 
The  discussion  promised  to  be  endless,  and  was 
still  going  on  when  Georgiana  left  the  table.  Not 
unaffected  by  the  allusions  to  fatal  consequences 
arising  from  dangerous  love-affairs,  she  waited  in 
her  own  rooms  till  dusk,  and  then,  attended  by  the 
faithful  Prudence,  stole  softly  down  the  stairs,  and 
along  the  terrace  to  the  sunken  garden. 


169 


CHAPTER    IX. 

SWORDS 

As  she  passed  below  the  room  in  which  her  uncle 
and  his  friends  were,  she  heard  their  voices,  and 
observed  that  one  of  the  windows  was  open.  But 
to  this  she  attached  no  importance,  unusual  as  the 
fact  was  at  that  hour,  for  she  had  other  matters 
to  think  of.  And  indeed  the  night  was  not  chill, 
though  a  slight  breeze  was  stirring  the  leaves  in  the 
garden  as  she  entered  it.  Leaving  Prudence  at  the 
foot  of  the  steps,  Georgiana  swiftly  threaded  the 
different  alleys  of  shrubbery  to  make  sure  that  no 
person  chanced  to  be  in  the  garden,  a  precaution 
she  had  adopted  since  the  first  meetings;  but  she 
did  not  peer  under  any  of  the  bushes,  or  behind 
those  that  grew  close  to  the  wall,  for  she  had  not 
conceived  that  anybody  might  come  into  the  garden 
to  hide,  or  for  other  purpose  than  his  own  pleasure. 
She  went  and  stood  in  the  gateway  near  the  glen- 
side.  A  moment  later  she  saw  the  dark  form  of 

170 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

her  lover  approaching  in  the  gloom  of  the  park, 
and  presently  his  arms  were  around  her. 

"  How  you  tried  my  patience,  sweet ! "  said  he, 
leading  her  slowly  toward  the  midst  of  the  garden. 
"  You  are  later  than  usual.  I  was  beginning  to 
think  you  must  have  appeared  already,  and  that 
my  eyes  were  so  blurred  watching  the  gateway  they 
had  failed  to  see  you.  Two  minutes  more,  and  I 
should  have  left  my  thicket  and  come  to  assure 
myself." 

"Never  do  that,  I  beg!  Never  come  into  the 
garden  till  you  see  me  in  the  gateway  —  not  even 
though  you  hear  my  voice.  Promise  me  you  will 
not  —  promise,  Everell." 

"  I  would  promise  you  anything  in  the  world 
when  you  ask  with  that  voice  and  those  eyes  — 
anything  but  to  cease  loving  you  or  to  leave  you. 
But  I  do  believe  the  goddess  of  love  has  this  garden 
in  her  keeping,  and  reserves  it  wholly  for  us,  we 
have  been  so  safe  from  intrusion  in  it." 

"  We  have  been  very  rash.  I  tremble  to  think 
how  careless  we  were  at  first,  when  you  were  wont 
to  come  in  before  I  saw  that  the  coast  was  clear. 
But  we  are  never  perfectly  safe  here  —  as  we  found 
last  night,  when  that  country  fellow  stared  in  at 
the  gateway." 

"  I  doubt  if  the  yokel  really  saw  us.  But,  if  so, 
171 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

he  would  find  nothing  strange  in  your  being  here 
with  your  maid.  If  he  saw  me,  he  would  suppose 
I  was  your  uncle  or  some  visitor.  But  I  will  take 
all  precautions,  dear,  if  only  to  make  your  mind 
easy.  I  wouldn't  have  you  suffer  the  least  fear, 
not  even  for  the  sake  of  that  look  of  solicitude  in 
your  eyes,  which  is  certainly  the  tenderest,  most 
heavenly  look  that  a  woman  or  an  angel  can  bestow. 
It  goes  to  my  inmost  heart,  and  binds  me  to  you 
for  ever.  And  yet  I'd  have  you  smile,  for  all  that, 
if  you'd  be  happier  smiling." 

"  I  might  be  happier  smiling,  but  I  think  I  should 
not  be  as  concerned  for  you  then,"  replied  Georgi- 
ana,  simply,  and  with  a  smile  that  had  a  little  sadness 
in  it. 

"  Ah,  my  dearest !  "  said  Everell,  softly,  with  a 
sudden  tremor  in  his  voice. 

The  silence  that  followed  might  have  been  longer 
but  that  the  young  man  could  not  forget,  for  more 
than  a  few  seconds  at  a  time,  how  brief  their  in- 
terview was  to  be.  He  imagined,  perhaps  mis- 
takenly, that  the  value  of  such  meetings  was  to  be 
measured  in  speeches  rather  than  in  silences,  al- 
though he  attached  full  worth  to  eloquent  glances. 

"  When  I  feel  how  dull  the  hours  are  between 
these  short  glimpses  of  heaven,"  said  he,  "  I  marvel 
to  think  how  tedious  the  years  must  have  been 

172 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

before  I  saw  you,  though  I  knew  it  not.  —  I  never 
chafed  at  danger  till  now.  Sometimes  when  I  lie 
in  the  bracken  yonder,  or  pace  the  dark  bottom  of 
the  glen,  I  am  tempted  to  ignore  all  risks,  come 
boldly  to  your  house,  seek  the  acquaintance  of  your 
uncle,  and  measure  my  happiness  by  hours  instead 
of  minutes." 

"  Oh,  Everell !  —  do  not  think  of  it !  " 

"  Nay,  have  no  fear,  sweet.  Your  commands  are 
sacred  with  me  —  till  you  command  me  to  leave  you, 
or  not  to  love  you." 

"  But  if  I  commanded  you  earnestly  to  leave?  — 
resolutely,  so  that  you  knew  I  meant  it  ?  " 

"  Could  you  have  the  heart  to  do  that  ?  " 

"Would  that  I  had!  I  ought  to  have.  But 
would  it  be  useless  ?  " 

"  As  useless  as  it  would  be  cruel,  sweet,  I  vow 
to  you." 

"  But  'tis  cruel  to  let  you  stay.  'Tis  a  wonder 
your  presence  in  the  neighbourhood  isn't  known 
already  —  a  wonder  the  poacher  hasn't  betrayed 
you." 

"  Nay,  he  is  true  as  steel.  We  are  in  the  same 
galley  —  both  rebels,  he  against  the  game  laws  and 
the  world's  injustice,  I  against  the  present  dynasty. 
You  must  know,  we  outlaws  stand  together.  —  You 
are  again  in  the  mood  of  fearing  for  my  safety.  But 

173 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

see  how  baseless  your  fears  have  been  so  far.  Trust 
our  stars,  dearest:  mine,  at  least,  has  ever  been 
fortunate." 

"  My  fears  are  always  returning.  Sometimes  I 
have  the  most  poignant  feeling  of  danger  surround- 
ing us,  of  reproach  to  myself  that  I  wjas  the  cause 
of  interrupting  your  flight.  I  have  that  feeling  now. 
Oh,  Everell,  loth  as  I  am  to  send  you  away,  I  feel 
in  my  soul  that  I  ought!  My  heart,  which  would 
keep  you  here,  at  the  same  time  urges  you  to  fly: 
with  one  beat  it  calls  to  you,  '  Stay/  and  with  the 
next  cries,  *  Go ! '  Oh,  why  did  you  not  go  on 
with  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  'tis  better  he  and  I  are  apart,  since  that 
fellow  at  the  inn  knew  we  travelled  together,"  re- 
plied Everell,  trying  to  reassure  her.  "  If  the  man 
really  meant  to  continue  dogging  us,  our  separation 
was  the  best  means  of  confusing  him.  Dismiss  your 
fears,  sweet.  If  your  regard  for  me  were  love 
rather  than  compassion,  —  love  such  as  I  have  for 
you,  —  the  only  impulse  of  your  heart  would  be  to 
keep  me  with  you:  beyond  that,  you  would  not 
think,  either  with  hope  or  fear.  And  yet  your  com- 
passion, so  angelic,  —  nay,  so  womanly,  —  I  would 
rather  have  than  the  love  of  any  other  woman." 

He  said  this  honestly;  for  she  had  never  in  plain 
terms  owned  to  him  that  she  loved  him,  and  he,  in 

174. 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

the  humility  of  a  man's  first  love,  saw  himself  un- 
worthy of  her  by  as  much  as  he  adored  her,  and 
therefore  did  not  imagine  himself  capable  of  eliciting 
from  her  what  he  felt  for  her.  Her  indulgence  he 
ascribed  to  the  pity  of  a  gentle  heart  for  one  whose 
situation,  both  as  a  refugee  and  as  a  lover,  pleaded 
for  him  while  his  courtesy  and  honour  gave  assur- 
ance that  her  tenderness  was  safe  from  betrayal.  If 
her  heart  desired  him  to  stay  near  her,  he  supposed, 
'twas  because  it  hesitated  to  put  him  to  the  unhappi- 
ness  of  leaving  her.  That  she  might  suffer  on  her 
own  account  in  his  absence,  did  not  occur  to  him: 
she  herself  was  all  loveliness,  and  where  she  was, 
there  would  all  loveliness  be ;  what  was  he  that  she 
should  find  him  necessary  to  make  the  world  com- 
plete? Were  his  presence  needful  to  her  content, 
she  would  not  limit  their  meetings  to  so  few  mo- 
ments in  a  long  day.  Thus  he  thought,  or,  rather, 
thus  he  felt  without  analyzing  the  feeling. 

"  'Tis  the  duty  of  my  compassion,  then,"  she 
answered,  "  to  drive  you  away.  I  am  more  con- 
vinced of  it  now  than  ever.  Such  foreboding,  such 
misgiving !  —  why  do  I  feel  so  ?  I  pray  Heaven 
'tis  not  yet  too  late.  —  Hark !  what  was  that  ?  " 

"  'Tis  only  the  master  and  his  guests  a-laughing 
over  their  dissipations,"  said  Prudence,  near  whom 


175 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

the  lovers  happened  at  the  moment  to  be  standing. 
"  They've  left  the  window  open,  ma'am." 

"  See  how  easily  you  are  frightened  without 
cause,"  said  Everell.  "  Come,  has  not  the  mood 
run  its  course  ?  " 

"  Blame  me  not  that  I  bid  you  go,  Everell ! "  she 
replied,  as  if  not  to  be  reassured.  "  You  may  come 
to  blame  me  that  I  ever  stayed  to  hear  you !  " 

"  For  that  dear  fault  my  heart  will  thank  you 
while  it  moves." 

"  It  was  a  fault !  —  I  see  now  that  it  was.  I 
was  so  solitary,  so  rebellious  against  my  uncle  and 
his  company,  that  when  you  came  my  heart  seemed 
to  know  you  as  a  friend;  and  I  listened  to  you." 

"  Ay,  sweet  listener  that  you  were !  What  effect 
your  listening  had  upon  me!  I  had  wished  to  re- 
turn to  France,  which  in  exile  I  had  grown  up  to 
love.  This  England,  though  I  was  born  in  it,  was 
to  me  a  strange  country,  but  you  have  made  it 
home!" 

He  raised  both  her  hands  to  his  lips,  while  she 
stood  irresolute,  her  eyes  searching  his  face  for  the 
secret  of  his  confidence,  which  she  would  have  re- 
joiced to  think  better  warranted  than  her  fears.  The 
silence  was  suddenly  broken  by  a  slight,  brief  noise 
in  the  greenery  near  the  steps. 

"  What's  that?  "  she  said,  quickly. 
176 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  The  wind,"  replied  Everell ;  but  the  sudden 
straightening  of  his  body,  and  fixity  of  his  atten- 
tion upon  the  place  of  the  sound,  betrayed  his  doubt. 

"  No,"  whispered  Georgiana,  "  'twas  quite  dif- 
ferent." 

"  Some  animal  moving  among  the  shrubs,"  said 
Everell.  "  I'll  go  and  see." 

With  his  hand  upon  his  sword-hilt,  he  walked 
to  the  shrubbery  growing  along  the  foot  of  the 
bank  which  rose  to  the  terrace.  "  'Twas  here- 
abouts," he  said,  and,  drawing  his  weapon,  thrust 
it  downward  into  the  thick  leafy  mass.  From  the 
further  side  of  the  mass  came  the  loud  hoot  of  an 
owl,  followed  by  the  noise  of  a  man  scrambling  to 
his  feet. 

"  Ah !  come  out,  spy ! "  cried  Everell,  as  the 
human  character  of  the  intruder  was  certified  by  a 
sound  of  husky  breathing. 

He  darted  his  weapon  swiftly  here  and  there 
through  the  shrubbery,  and  then  ran  seeking  the 
nearest  opening  by  which  he  might  get  to  the  enemy. 
But  the  enemy  spared  him  that  trouble  by  appear- 
ing on  the  hither  side  of  the  barrier,  from  the  very 
opening  that  Everell  had  sought.  The  strange  man 
had  a  gun  raised,  to  wield  it  as  a  club. 

Everell,  recalling  his  experience  of  John  Tarby's 
fowling-piece,  nevertheless  ran  toward  the  fellow, 

177 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

hoping  to  dodge  the  blow,  and  disable  the  man  by 
pinking  him  in  the  arm  or  shoulder,  after  which  it 
might  be  possible  to  learn  his  purpose  and  come  to 
terms.  But  just  as  the  young  gentleman  went  to 
meet  his  approaching  foe,  a  sharp  scream  from 
Georgiana  distracted  him,  so  that,  though  he  saved 
his  head,  he  caught  the  gun-stroke  on  his  right 
shoulder,  and  his  sword-thrust  passed  wide  of  his 
adversary.  He  now  heard  other  feet  hastening 
toward  him  through  the  garden:  it  was,  indeed, 
the  appearance  of  the  two  other  men,  coming  to  the 
keeper's  aid  upon  his  signal  of  the  owl's  hoot,  that 
had  caused  Georgiana  to  cry  out.  Everell,  seeing 
his  first  opponent  draw  back  to  recover  himself, 
turned  swiftly  to  consider  the  newcomers,  placing 
his  back  to  the  high  shrubbery.  One  was  approach- 
ing on  his  front,  the  other  at  his  left.  They  both 
•brandished  cudgels;  but,  as  they  saw  him  dart  his 
glance  upon  them  in  turn  and  hold  his  sword  ready 
for  a  lunge  in  either  direction,  they  stopped  at  safe 
distance. 

"  Oh,  Everell,  fly ! "  cried  Georgiana,  hastening 
to  his  side. 

"  What!  and  leave  you  to  these  rascals,  sweet?  " 
he  answered. 

"  They'll  not  harm  me :   they  are  servants  here. 
Save  yourself !  —  for  my  sake !  " 

178 


THE   FLIGHT    OP   GEORGIANA 

He  looked  at  her  for  an  instant,  read  in  her  eyes 
the  pleading  of  her  heart,  and  said,  softly,  "  For 
yours,  yes !  —  we  shall  meet  again." 

He  then  started  toward  the  gateway  leading  to 
the  park  and  glen.  But  the  gardener  and  the  groom 
swallowed  their  fear  of  steel,  and  made  bravely  to 
intercept  him.  He  had  confidence  in  his  ability  with 
the  sword  to  deal  with  two  men  armed  with  cudgels. 
But  he  knew  that  his  ultimate  situation  would  be 
so  much  the  worse  if  he  killed  either  of  these  fel- 
lows. His  thought,  therefore,  was  to  elude  them 
by  mere  fleetness,  or  slightly  to  disable  them.  He 
soon  abandoned  the  former  hope,  for  at  the  first 
turn  he  tried  they  were  swift  to  head  him  off.  So 
he  charged  straight  at  the  nearer,  thrusting  so  for- 
tunately as  to  prick  the  fellow's  shoulder,  making 
him  lower  his  cudgel  with  a  howl.  Everell  now 
tried  a  similar  lunge  at  the  other  cudgel-man,  but 
the  latter  divined  his  purpose,  and  saved  himself 
by  tumbling  over  backward.  The  wounded  man 
had  instantly  transferred  his  cudgel  to  his  left  hand, 
and  now  stood  again  in  Everett's  way,  while  the 
fellow  with  the  gun  had  come  up  to  threaten  him 
in  the  rear.  Informed  of  this  last  danger  by  his 
hearing,  the  Jacobite  sprang  aside  to  the  right  in 
time  to  avoid  a  second  blow.  He  turned  swiftly 
upon  the  gun-wielder,  whose  fear  of  the  sword 

179 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

made  him  thereupon  flee  toward  the  gateway. 
Everell's  three  adversaries  were  now  all  in  that  part 
of  the  garden  through  which  he  had  intended  to 
escape. 

"  This  way !  "  cried  Georgiana,  from  behind  him ; 
"  and  by  the  terrace !  " 

Everell  wheeled  around  and  made  a  dash  for  the 
steps.  His  enemies  were  prompt  to  recover  from 
their  surprise  and  rush  after  him,  the  fallen  man 
having  speedily  got  on  his  feet  again.  But  the 
clean-limbed  Jacobite  won  to  the  steps  by  more 
than  striking-distance.  He  thought  to  clear  them 
in  two  bounds,  then  cross  the  terrace  and  gain  the 
park. 

"  Eh !  the  deuce !  "  exclaimed  a  voice  at  the  head 
of  the  steps,  as  a  dark  form,  backed  by  several 
others,  appeared  there.  Everell,  who  had  just  set 
his  foot  on  the  middle  step,  checked  himself  at  the 
risk  of  his  balance,  and  leaped  back.  The  newcomer, 
who  had  a  sword  in  his  hand,  thrust  downward  at 
Everell,  at  the  same  time  calling  out,  "  The  light, 
Caleb!" 

A  lantern,  which  had  been  concealed  under  the 
coat  of  its  bearer,  now  cast  its  rays  over  the  scene 
from  one  side  of  the  stair-top.  Its  help  was  more 
to  those  who  arrived  with  it  than  to  Everell,  whose 
eyes  had  become  used  to  the  light  shed  by  the  stars 

180 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

alone.  But  he  was  now  enabled  to  make  sure  that 
his  new  intercepter  was  Mr.  Foxwell  himself;  that 
Rashleigh  was  at  that  gentleman's  side,  with  drawn 
sword;  that  the  two  London  ladies  stood  close  be- 
hind, peering  forward  and  yet  shrinking  back,  as 
curiosity  disputed  with  fright;  and  that  the  man 
servant  with  the  lantern  carried  also  a  coil  of  rope. 
All  this  was  the  observation  of  an  instant.  Even 
as  he  made  it,  Everell  put  his  sword  at  guard,  and 
looked  a  questioning  defiance. 

"  A  sturdy  ghost,  as  I  live !  "  cried  Foxwell,  mo- 
tioning the  three  fellows  at  Everell's  back,  who  had 
come  to  a  halt  at  the  first  intimation  of  their  mas- 
ter's arrival,  to  stay  their  hands.  "  My  niece,  too ! 
—  the  guileless  Georgiana !  " 

"  Uncle !  "  she  began,  scarce  able  to  speak,  though 
her  pale  face  and  terrified  eyes  were  eloquent 
enough ;  "  this  gentleman  —  " 

"  Is  my  prisoner,  till  he  gives  an  account  of  him- 
self. Do  you  surrender,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Everell. 

"  Then  I  must  reluctantly  order  these  men  to 
take  you,"  said  Foxwell,  politely. 

"  Then  their  deaths  be  on  your  head,"  said 
Everell,  and  turned  to  make  another  dash  for  the 
gateway,  determined  this  time  to  spare  none  who 
barred  the  way.  To  this  direction  of  escape  he  was 

181 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

limited  by  his  unwillingness  to  try  fatal  conclusions 
with  Georgiana's  kinsman.  But  he  was  robbed  of 
choice  in  the  matter;  for  no  sooner  had  he  taken 
two  strides  than  Foxwell,  afraid  of  losing  him, 
leaped  down  the  steps,  and  shouted,  "  Turn  and 
defend  yourself ! " 

Fearing  that  non-compliance  might  result  in  the 
indignity  of  being  struck  on  the  back  with  the  sword 
while  in  flight,  Everell  obeyed.  Ere  he  could  think, 
his  blade  had  crossed  that  of  Foxwell,  who  a  second 
time  bade  the  three  underlings  hold  off.  The  two 
gentlemen  made  their  swords  ring  swiftly,  in  that 
part  of  the  garden  near  the  steps,  Caleb  moving 
the  lantern  so  as  to  keep  its  light  upon  them. 
Georgiana  watched  in  fearful  silence,  Prudence 
clinging  to  her  and  recurrently  moaning,  "  Oh, 
lor !  "  Rashleigh  stood  on  the  steps,  ready  to  in- 
terfere at  call.  The  combatants  seemed  admirably 
matched,  and  each  had  reason  to  admire  the  other's 
fencing.  But,  to  Everell's  relief,  it  presently  be- 
came apparent  that  the  elder  man's  arm  was  weaken- 
ing. The  Jacobite  now  indulged  the  hope  of 
disarming  him.  But  Foxwell,  too,  saw  that  possi- 
bility. He  beckoned  Rashleigh,  who  thereupon  ran 
forward  and  struck  up  Everell's  sword,  while  the 
groom  and  the  gardener,  obeying  a  swift  command 
of  their  master,  seized  the  Jacobite's  elbows  from 

182 


"  THE    TWO    GENTLEMEN    MADE    THEIR    SWORDS    RING." 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

behind.  Everell  made  a  violent  effort  to  throw 
them  off,  but  in  sheer  strength  he  was  no  match 
for  them.  Relinquishing  the  attempt,  he  said, 
quietly,  to  Foxwell,  "  'Twas  scarcely  fair." 

"  For  that  I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  Foxwell, 
still  panting  for  breath.  "  In  a  matter  between  us 
two  alone  as  gentlemen,  'twould  be  dastardly.  But 
I  had  to  take  you  at  all  cost.  You  would  not  sur- 
render; though  you  certainly  owe  me  an  expla- 
nation on  one  score,  and  are  an  object  of  suspicion 
on  another." 

"  Oh,  Everell !  "  murmured  Georgiana,  who  had 
fallen  to  weeping,  and  was  heedful  only  of  her 
lover's  plight  and  not  at  all  of  her  uncle's  words. 

"  Everell,  say  you  ?  Bring  the  lantern  here, 
Caleb."  In  the  better  light,  Foxwell  scrutinized 
his  prisoner's  face.  "  The  scar  on  the  cheek,  too. 
'Tis  as  I  thought.  But  how  Miss  Foxwell  happens 
to  participate  —  well,  there  will  be  time  for  explana- 
tions. Sir,  if  you  will  give  me  your  parole  d'hon^ 
neur,  I  need  not  inflict  upon  you  the  restraint  of  —  " 
He  indicated  the  cords  in  Caleb's  possession. 

"  I  thank  you,  but  I  prefer  to  retain  my  right 
of  escape." 

"  In  that  case,  you  will  admit  the  necessity  of 
the  precautions  I  reluctantly  take."  And  Foxwell 
set  about  directing  the  servants  in  fastening  the 

183 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

captive's  wrists  behind  him,  and  in  tying  his  ankles 
so  as  to  limit  the  length  of  his  steps.  With  a 
courteous  "  Allow  me,  sir,"  Foxwell  disengaged  the 
sword  from  Everell's  fingers  and  returned  it  to 
its  own  scabbard,  which  Everell  had  retained  at  his 
side.  This  act  of  grace  the  Jacobite  acknowledged 
with  a  bow. 

"  Uncle,  you  will  not  detain  this  gentleman  ?  " 
entreated  Georgiana,  conquering  her  tears.  "  He 
has  done  you  no  offence.  As  to  our  meeting  here, 
I  will  tell  you  all;  the  fault  is  mine." 

"  Not  so !  "  said  Everell,  quickly.  "  If  there  be 
any  fault  in  that,  'tis  mine.  Sir,  it  was  not  by 
Miss  Foxwell's  desire  that  I  came  here;  it  was 
against  her  will  that  I  spoke  to  her.  My  presence 
was  forced  upon  her." 

"  Well,  well,  you  shall  be  heard  presently.  You 
have  a  more  serious  charge  to  face  than  making  love 
clandestinely  to  young  ladies.  —  As  for  you,  Geor- 
giana, I  thought  you  were  in  your  chamber,  wrapped 
in  the  sleep  of  innocence.  I'll  never  trust  pru- 
dery again.  I  beg  you  will  go  in  immediately, 
miss." 

"  Uncle,  I  will  not  go  till  you  have  set  this  gen- 
tleman free.  You  shall  have  all  my  gratitude  and 
obedience :  I'll  give  you  no  cause  of  complaint.  Be 
kind  —  generous  —  I  pray  —  "  Her  voice  failing 

184 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

her,  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  essayed  to  take 
Foxwell's  hand. 

"  Nay,  sweet,  you  go  too  far,"  said  Everell,  ten- 
derly. 

"  Too  far,  indeed,"  said  Foxwell.  "  No  scenes 
of  supplication,  I  beg,  —  they  are  sure  to  make  me 
more  severe.  I  advise  you  to  go  to  your  chamber, 
miss.  You  had  best  oblige  me  in  this,  else  stub- 
bornness on  your  part  may  awaken  stubbornness  on 
mine." 

"  Go,  dear,  and  trust  all  to  me,"  counselled  Ev- 
erell, who  had  been  regarding  her  with  eyes  in  which 
there  was  no  attempt  to  belie  his  love.  "  Go  —  this 
is  not  the  end." 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment;  then  turned  sor- 
rowfully away,  and  went  slowly  up  the  steps  and  to 
the  house,  followed  by  her  maid,  to  whose  proffers 
of  assistance  she  gave  no  more  heed  than  if  she 
had  been  walking  in  a  dream. 

"  Sir,"  said  Everell,  with  a  slight  huskiness  of 
voice,  "  let  me  assure  you  that  I  am  a  gentleman 
and  a  man  of  honour ;  and  that  I  respect  your  niece, 
and  have  every  reason  to  respect  her,  as  I  would 
a  saint." 

"  No  assurance  is  needful  to  convince  me  you  are 
a  gentleman,"  replied  Foxwell.  "  I  will  lodge  you 
in  a  manner  as  nearly  befitting  your  quality  as  se- 

185 


THE   FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

curity  and  my  poor  means  will  allow.  I  must  be 
your  jailer  for  to-night,  at  least.  —  Caleb,  go  before 
with  the  lantern.  To  the  hall  first.  And  slowly. 
—  I  trust  you  can  make  shift  to  walk,  sir." 

Placing  the  gardener  and  the  groom  at  either  side 
of  the  prisoner,  and  the  keeper  at  his  rear,  Foxwell 
set  the  party  in  motion.  The  two  gentlemen,  fol- 
lowing close,  gave  their  arms  to  the  ladies  upon 
reaching  the  head  of  the  steps,  and  the  procession 
went  on  at  the  slow  pace  which  Everett's  ankle- 
cords  made  imperative. 

"  A  mighty  pretty  fellow,  whatever  he  may  be," 
said  Lady  Strange,  sotto  voce. 

"  Georgiana  is  to  be  envied,"  said  Mrs.  Winter. 
"  Such  are  the  rewards  of  virtue." 

"  He  is  vastly  in  love  with  her,"  declared  Lady 
Strange.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such  tender  glances  ?  " 

"  'Tis  the  kind  of  ghost  you  could  find  it  in  your 
heart  to  be  haunted  by,  is  it  not,  Di  ?  "  queried  Mrs. 
Winter. 

"  The  keeper  must  have  been  in  some  doubt 
whether  the  ghost  was  the  ghost,"  put  in  Rashleigh, 
"  before  he  decided  to  give  the  alarm." 

There  had  indeed  been  indecision  on  the  part  of 
the  keeper,  but  upon  other  ground  than  Rashleigh 
mentioned.  As  he  sat  with  the  gardener  over  their 


186 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

extra  beer  later  that  night,  the  keeper  explained  to 
his  comrade: 

"  I  were  in  a  powerful  state  o'  uncertainty,  and 
that's  the  truth  of  it.  For,  in  course,  I  knowed  the 
young  mistress  and  her  maid  as  soon  as  ever  they 
come  into  the  garden.  And  when  this  here  young 
captain, — for  I  take  it,  he  can't  be  no  less,  what  with 
the  air  he  have,  and  the  way  he  handle  his  sword, 
—  so  when  the  young  captain  appeared,  I  soon  see 
how  the  land  lay.  Though  I  couldn't  make  out 
what  they  was  a-sayin',  I  could  tell  it  were  a  matter 
o'  clandestine  love.  Now  I  were  to  give  a  owl's 
hoot  when  the  ghost  appeared.  Thinks  I,  '  Devil  a 
ghost  this  is,  but  yet  'tis  the  only  ghost  we're  like 
to  behold.  If  I  wait  for  a  real  ghost/  thinks  I, 
'  we  sha'n't  get  to  our  beds  this  night ;  and  yet  I 
haven't  the  heart  to  spoil  the  young  lady's  love- 
affair.'  " 

"  And  small  blame  to  you,  David,"  said  Andrew 
the  gardener.  "  Your  thoughts  was  my  thoughts, 
and  I  kep'  a-wondering  to  myself,  *  What  will  David 
do?  If  he  doesn't  hoot,  we  shall  have  to  stay  out 
here  all  night,  and  then  only  get  credit  for  going 
asleep  and  seeing  nothing.  And  yet,  if  he  does  hoot, 
there'll  be  a  pretty  kettle  o'  fish  for  the  young 
lady.' " 

•  "  Yes,  Andrew,  it  were  a  great  responsibility.    I 

187 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

wished  it  had  been  left  to  you  to  do  the  hootin', 
for,  thinks  I,  *  Andrew's  a  wiser  man  than  me,  and 
he'd  know  the  right  thing.' ' 

"  Maybe  so,  David,  but  not  such  a  good  hooter," 
said  Andrew,  modestly.  "  I'll  admit  I  did  a'most 
make  up  my  mind  that  such  kind  of  love-affairs 
comes  to  no  good,  and  the  master  ought  to  know, 
so  the  best  thing  for  all  of  us  would  be  for  you 
to  consider  the  stranger  a  ghost,  and  hoot." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,  Andrew,  now  that  I  hear 
you  say  so.  But  I  couldn't  muster  up  the  heart, 
because  I  done  my  own  love-makin'  in  a  clandestine 
manner,  in  my  lovin'  days,  and  I  had  a  sort  o'  fel- 
low-feelin'  with  these  young  people,  as  you  might 
say.  So  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind.  But  I  hap- 
pened to  move  my  leg,  which  were  powerful  cramped 
with  sittin'  long  in  one  position,  an'  I  made  more 
noise  nor  I  bargained  for.  And  the  first  thing  I 
knew,  the  young  gentleman  were  a-proddin'  at  me 
through  the  shrub'ry.  So  before  I  ever  thought, 
the  hoot  come  out,  more  as  if  there  was  a  owl 
inside  o'  me  which  hooted  of  its  own  accord,  than 
if  it  was  of  my  own  free  will." 

"  It  wasn't  of  your  own  free  will,  man.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  the  matter  was  took  out  o'  your 
hands  altogether.  The  moving  of  your  leg  was 


188 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ordered  from  above,  to  bring  about  the  end  that  was 
predestinated." 

"  I  believe  it  were,  Andrew.  At  all  events,  once 
the  hoot  was  out,  the  fat  was  in  the  fire.  It  weren't 
a  bad  hoot,  though,  were  it  ?  " 

"  Better  nor  a  real  owl  could  do,  David,"  said 
Andrew,  raising  his  beer  to  his  mouth. 


189 


CHAPTER   X. 

WAGERS 

THE  conversation  just  related  took  place  in  a  pas- 
sage where  the  two  men  kept  watch  outside  the 
room  in  which  Everell  was  temporarily  confined.  It 
was  a  small  chamber  with  an  iron-barred  window, 
and  the  Jacobite  sat  gazing  into  the  flame  of  a 
candle  on  the  mantelpiece,  while  his  fate  was  being 
discussed  in  the  drawing-room.  He  was  still  under 
the  restraint  of  the  cords,  which,  like  that  of  lock 
and  key,  was  warranted  by  his  persistent  refusal  to 
give  his  word  that  he  would  not  escape.  The  mas- 
ter of  the  house  had  personally  seen,  however,  that 
the  prisoner's  surroundings  were  made  as  endurable 
as  the  necessities  of  the  case  allowed. 

"  So  this,"  said  Foxwell,  as  he  then  rejoined  his 
guests  in  the  drawing-room,  "  is  what  lay  behind 
our  Georgiana's  prudery.  How  the  deuce  could  she 
have  met  the  Jacobite?  " 

"The  question  is,"  said  Rashleigh,  "what  the 
deuce  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  Jacobite  ?  " 

190 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

"  I  wish  I  knew,"  replied  Foxwell,  looking  at  the 
document  presented  to  him  by  Jeremiah  Filson. 
"  'Tis  clear  enough  what  our  duty  is,  as  loyal  sub- 
jects, and  so  forth." 

"  'Twere  a  pity  such  a  lovable  fellow  should  be 
thrown  to  the  hangman,"  said  Mrs.  Winter. 

"  A  thousand  pities,"  said  Lady  Strange.  "  And 
so  loving  a  fellow,  too!  If  ever  a  man  had  a  true 
lover's  look !  —  well,  to  be  sure,  the  little  Georgiana 
is  a  pretty  thing,  but  —  " 

"  But  the  young  blade  might  look  higher  if  he 
had  better  taste  —  is  that  what  you  were  thinking, 
Diana?"  asked  Mrs.  Winter,  with  ironical  artless- 
ness. 

"  No  such  thing,  neither ! "  said  Lady  Strange, 
indignantly.  "  I  admire  him  for  his  constancy  — 
for  I  warrant  he  is  constant  to  her,  and  will  be 
constant  to  her;  and  I  wouldn't  have  him  else,  not 
for  the  world.  Thank  Heaven,  I  am  above  envy." 

A  slight  emphasis  upon  the  I  —  so  slight  as  scarce 
to  seem  intended  —  was  perhaps  what  drew  from 
the  other  lady  the  answer : 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  the  young  fellow's  con- 
stancy. You  know,  Diana  dear,  you  always  have 
been  somewhat  credulous  of  men's  constancy  —  'tis 
your  own  fidelity  makes  you  trustful,  of  course." 

"  Doubt  as  much  as  you  like,  Isabella :  we  are  all 
191 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

aware  you  have  particular  reasons  to  complain  of 
men's  fickleness." 

Feeling  that  the  preservation  of  the  peace  required 
an  immediate  diversion,  Rashleigh  broke  in  with  the 
first  remark  that  occurred  to  him  as  appropriate : 

"  Certainly  this  young  man  is  a  lover  who  has 
risked  his  life  for  the  sake  of  love." 

"  Ay,  and  that  proves  you  and  I  were  right  at 
dinner,  Cousin  Rashleigh ! "  cried  Lady  Strange. 

"  Hardly  so,  my  lady,"  said  Foxwell.  "  This 
young  gentleman  merely  risked  his  life  in  coming 
to  meet  his  beloved.  He  by  no  means  counted 
surely  upon  losing  it:  his  active  endeavours  to  es- 
cape prove  that.  Mrs.  Winter's  contention,  which 
I  supported,  was  that  no  man  would  deliberately 
give  his  life  for  the  sake  of  love  —  by  which  I  mean 
the  passion  of  love,  itself,  apart  from  pity  or  duty 
or  other  consideration.  Now,  had  this  gentleman 
come  to  meet  his  beloved,  knowing  certainly  that 
death  awaited  him  in  consequence,  then  indeed  he 
would  have  proved  your  assertion." 

"  Well,  and  how  do  you  know  he  wouldn't  have 
done  so,  if  the  circumstances  had  required  ?  "  asked 
Lady  Strange.  "  For  my  part,  I  believe  he  would." 

"  Provided,  of  course,"  added  Rashleigh,  "  that 
by  failing  to  meet  her  he  might  lose  her  for  all 
time.5' 

192 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  That  is  implied,  certainly,"  said  Foxwell.  "  The 
alternative  we  are  imagining  is :  Death  for  love 
gratified  —  life  for  love  renounced." 

"  Catch  a  fellow  of  his  years  and  looks  choosing 
death  on  any  such  terms,  if  the  choice  were  offered 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Winter,  derisively. 

"  'Tis  precisely  his  youth  that  would  make  him 
give  all  for  love,"  said  Rashleigh ;  "  the  more  so 
if  this  be  his  first  serious  love.  —  But  what  is  to  be 
his  fate,  Bob  ?  If  you  hand  him  over  to  the  author- 
ities, he  will  certainly  be  hanged,  unless  that  paper 
lies." 

"  Egad,  I  was  just  thinking,"  replied  Foxwell, 
with  the  faint  smile  that  comes  with  a  piquant  idea; 
"  an  Italian  duke,  a  century  or  two  ago,  would  have 
amused  his  visitors,  and  settled  the  point  of  our 
dispute,  by  putting  this  young  gentleman  to  the  test. 
I  must  say,  experiments  upon  the  human  passions 
have  an  interest,  though  the  loggish  minds  of  our 
countrymen  don't  often  rise  to  such  refinements  of 
curiosity." 

"  I  see  nothing  in  it  to  balk  at,"  said  Rashleigh. 
"  At  the  worst,  the  young  man  can  but  die,  as  he 
must  if  you  do  your  plain  duty  as  a  loyal  subject. 
'Twould  really  be  giving  him  a  chance  for  his  life. 
It  seems  an  excellent  way  out  of  your  own  inde- 


193 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

cision  as  to  what  you  should  do  with  him:  you 
transfer  his  fate  from  your  will  to  his." 

"  I  believe  he  does  love  the  girl,"  said  Foxwell, 
revolving  the  notion  in  his  mind.  "  And  certainly 
his  life  is  in  my  power  —  we  may  let  him  go  if  we 
choose,  and  the  government  be  none  the  wiser,  or 
we  may  dutifully  hand  him  over  to  the  law.  We 
can  offer  him,  on  the  one  hand,  his  life  and  freedom 
if  he  will  give  up  his  love  upon  the  instant  and 
for  ever,  not  to  set  eyes  upon  the  girl  again:  on 
the  other  hand,  a  brief  period  of  grace,  which  he 
may  pass  with  her  on  the  footing  of  a  favoured 
suitor,  on  condition  of  handing  him  over  to  the 
authorities  at  the  end." 

"  And  if  he  decline  to  choose?  "  asked  Rashleigh. 

"  Then  I  can  send  word  straightway  to  Jeremiah 
Filson  to  fetch  the  officers.  In  that  event,  young 
Troilus  will  lose  both  life  and  love.  Either  choice 
will  be  a  gain  upon  that.  —  But  you  may  save  your 
pity,  Lady  Strange:  he  will  choose  to  live  and  go 
free,  depend  on  it." 

"  I  will  not  depend  on  it.  He  will  obey  the 
dictates  of  his  love,  and  choose  death  rather  than 
never  see  her  again." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  he  does  so," 
said  Rashleigh.  "  You  take  too  little  account  of  his 
youth,  Bob.  When  men  are  of  his  age,  and  of  an 

194 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ardent  nature,  their  love  shuts  out  everything  else 
from  their  view.  "Tis  their  universe.  Beyond  it, 
or  apart  from  it,  there's  nothing." 

"  Fudge  and  nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Winter. 
"  He  will  prefer  to  run  away  and  live  to  love  an- 
other day." 

"We  shall  see,"  cried  Lady  Strange,  "if  Bob 
will  really  put  it  to  the  test.  I'm  so  sure  of  the 
man,  I'll  lay  five  guineas  he  will  choose  love  and 
death." 

"  Well,  my  lady,  I'll  take  your  wager,"  said 
Foxwell.  "  Your  five  guineas  will  be  a  cheap  price 
for  the  lesson,  that  we  men  are  not  such  devoted 
creatures  as  you  do  us  the  honour  to  suppose." 

"  Never  fear  my  doing  you  that  honour,  Fox- 
well.  But  thank  you  for  taking  the  wager.  I'm 
dying  of  curiosity  to  see  how  the  young  fellow  will 
receive  the  proposal." 

"  There  is  no  need  you  should  linger  in  suspense," 
replied  Foxwell,  pulling  the  bell.  "  Let  us  have  the 
matter  out  now,  while  we're  in  the  humour." 

Taking  up  his  sword,  for  use  only  in  case  of  some 
desperate  attempt  on  the  prisoner's  part,  Foxwell 
stationed  himself  at  the  door  of  the  room,  whence 
he  could  see  across  the  hall  and  up  the  passage  to 
the  place  of  confinement.  He  then  sent  Caleb  to 
request,  in  terms  of  great  politeness,  Mr.  Everell's 

195 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

company  in  the  drawing-room,  whither  he  was  to 
be  attended,  of  course,  by  the  two  men  now  guard- 
ing him. 

While  Caleb  was  upon  this  errand,  it  was  pos- 
sible for  Foxwell  both  to  keep  eyes  on  the  pas- 
sage and  to  talk  with  his  friends. 

"  Will  you  bet  five  guineas  against  me,  too, 
Bob?"  asked  Rashleigh. 

"  Nay,  I'll  do  that,"  put  in  Mrs.  Winter,  quickly, 
"  and  five  more,  if  you  like." 

"  Done  —  ten  guineas,"  said  Rashleigh. 

"  Good !  "  cried  Mrs.  Winter.  "  I  believe  I  know 
how  far  a  man  is  capable  of  going  for  love's  sake 
—  even  when  young  and  of  an  ardent  nature." 

"  For  all  your  talk,"  answered  Rashleigh,  with 
barefaced  affability,  "  you'll  not  make  me  believe 
you've  never  found  a  man  who  would  face  death 
for  love  of  you." 

"  I  may  have  found  some  who  said  they  would," 
replied  Mrs.  Winter,  complacently  swallowing  the 
flattery  despite  all  her  sophistication,  "  but  that's  a 
different  thing.  Let  us  see  how  this  Romeo  comes 
out  of  the  test." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  put  the  matter  to  him, 
Foxwell  ?  "  asked  Lady  Strange. 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  was  the  reply.  "  Either  he 
shall  go  free  and  never  see  her  again,  or  he  shall  be 

196 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

our  guest  here  for  a  stipulated  time,  and  then  be 
given  up.  The  only  question  is,  how  long  shall  that 
time  be?" 

"  A  day,"  suggested  Mrs.  Winter. 

"  Cruel !  —  a  month,"  said  Lady  Strange. 

"  I  cannot  have  him  on  my  hands  so  long,"  said 
Foxwell.  "  Say  a  week.  Shall  the  wagers  stand, 
on  that  condition  ?  " 

Rashleigh  made  no  objection,  and  the  two  ladies 
were  brought  to  a  hasty  acceptance  of  the  com- 
promise by  Foxwell  placing  his  finger  on  his  lip 
in  warning  of  the  prisoner's  approach. 

Everell  came  as  rapidly  as  the  restraint  upon  his 
motions  would  allow;  and  stopped  as  soon  as  he 
had  entered  the  room,  to  avoid  proceeding  farther 
with  his  shuffling  steps  before  the  company.  Fox- 
well  had  a  chair  placed  for  him.  Caleb  and  the 
two  other  men  were  ordered  to  stand  ready  out- 
side the  door,  which  was  then  closed.  Foxwell  sat 
down  near  the  ladies  and  Rashleigh,  so  that  the 
Jacobite  now  found  himself  confronted  by  four  pairs 
of  eyes,  which  paid  him  the  compliment  of  a  well- 
bred  regard  vastly  different  in  its  effect  from  the 
rude  stare  of  the  vulgar.  His  own  glance  had 
swiftly  informed  him  that  Georgiana  was  not 
present. 

He  sat  with  undissembled  curiosity  as  to  what 
197 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

this  interview  might  unfold.  He  had  obeyed  the 
summons  with  alacrity,  eager  to  be  informed  of 
what  was  to  come.  He  was  neither  defiant  nor 
crushed;  exhibited  neither  sullenness  nor  bravado. 
In  the  solitude  of  his  place  of  detention,  he  had 
been  tormented  with  the  reproach  of  having  brought 
trouble  upon  Georgiana;  and  he  had  been  sobered 
and  humbled  by  the  knowledge  that  at  last  his 
rashness  had  laid  him  by  the  heels.  What  could 
he  say  to  Roughwood  now,  if  that  wise  friend  were 
there  to  see  the  fulfilment  of  his  warnings?  But 
these  feelings  did  not  banish  hope.  Everett's  na- 
ture was  still  buoyant.  He  was,  at  least,  under  the 
same  roof  with  Georgiana.  Death  seemed  far  away : 
he  scarcely  thought  of  it  as  the  natural  sequel  to 
his  situation.  He  now  looked  with  frank  inquiry 
at  the  face  of  his  principal  captor  for  enlightenment 
as  to  what  was  intended  concerning  him. 

"Sir,  I  have  solicited  this  meeting,"  began  Fox- 
well,  "  in  order  to  discuss  our  positions  —  yours 
and  my  own.  My  friends  were  witnesses  to  the 
occurrence  by  which  you  fell  into  my  —  that  is  to 
say,  by  which  you  became  my  guest.  They  know 
why  I  felt  bound  to  detain  you,  and  they  will  share 
my  confidence  to  the  end  of  the  affair.  It  would, 
of  course,  be  their  right  —  perhaps  their  duty  as 
loyal  subjects  —  to  act  independently  in  the  interests 

198 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

of  Government,  if  I  chose  not  to  act  so.  But  they 
have  agreed  to  abide  by  my  course,  whatever  that 
shall  be.  So  it  is  well,  I  think,  that  they  should  be 
present  at  this  interview." 

"  I  am  far  from  making  the  least  objection,  sir," 
said  Everell,  bowing  to  the  ladies  and  regarding  the 
whole  company  with  an  amiable  though  expectant 
composure. 

"  You  are  aware,  of  course,"  Foxwell  continued, 
"  of  what  will  follow  if  I  give  you  up  to  the  nearest 
justice.  Perhaps  you  may  not  know  that  one 
Jeremiah  Filson  is  actively  concerning  himself  about 
you  in  this  neighbourhood  on  behalf  of  the  Govern- 
ment. He  has  caused  a  warrant  to  be  issued  against 
you,  he  is  circulating  descriptions  which  show  him 
to  be  an  accurate  and  thorough  observer."  Foxwell 
put  his  hand  upon  the  paper  which  Rashleigh  had 
laid  on  the  table.  "  He  waits  only  for  news  of  your 
whereabouts,  to  bring  the  constables  upon  you.  He 
will  be  one  of  the  witnesses  against  you,  and  the 
other,  I  believe,  is  now  at  York  or  Carlisle  —  I 
know  not  which,  but  the  judges  have  been  trying 
and  sentencing  your  unlucky  comrades  by  the  score, 
gentlemen  as  well  as  the  lower  orders." 

As  Foxwell  paused,  Everell,  for  want  of  know- 
ing what  better  reply  to  make,  answered  in  a  half- 


199 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

smiling  manner,  though  his  heart  was  beating  rather 
faster  than  usual : 

"  Sir,  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  this  —  except  that 
'tis  a  pity  so  many  poor  fellows  should  die  for  being 
on  the  losing  side.  Nor  do  I  own  that  I  am  the 
man  you  think." 

"  Too  many  circumstances  leave  me  no  doubt  on 
that  point,  sir,"  said  Foxwell,  with  a  serenity  which 
showed  the  hopelessness  of  any  contest  on  the 
ground  of  identity.  "  'Tis  in  your  power  and  right 
certainly  to  deny  and  temporize;  but,  if  you  choose 
to  tire  me  by  those  methods,  I  have  only  to  deliver 
you  up  at  once." 

There  was  something  in  the  speaker's  quiet  voice 
and  cold  eyes  that  gave  the  whole  possibility  —  trial, 
sentence,  the  end  —  a  reality  and  nearness  it  had 
never  had  in  Everell's  mind  before.  He  was  startled 
into  a  gravity  he  had  not  previously  felt. 

"  But,"  Foxwell  went  on,  "  if  you  choose  that  we 
shall  understand  each  other,  there  is  a  chance  for 
your  life  —  a  condition  upon  which  you  may  have 
immediate  liberty." 

Everell  looked  frankly  grateful.  The  form  of 
death  assigned  to  traitors  and  rebels,  with  its  dismal 
preliminaries  and  circumstances,  had  not  allured 
him  the  brief  while  he  had  contemplated  it.  It 
wore  a  vastly  different  aspect  from  that  of  a  glorious 

£00 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

end  in  the  self-forgetfulness  of  battle.  "  Immediate 
liberty  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  some  eagerness. 

"  With  my  warranty,"  continued  Foxwell,  "  that 
neither  my  friends,  nor  myself,  nor  my  servants 
shall  pursue  you,  or  give  information  against  you, 
or  in  any  manner  hinder  your  departure  from  this 
country  —  " 

"  Sir,"  Everell  broke  in,  "  I  should  be  an  ingrate 
not  to  be  moved  by  such  generosity  —  you  are 
worthy  to  be  her  kinsman !  —  " 

"  Upon  the  single  condition  —  "  went  on  Fox- 
well,  without  any  change  of  manner. 

"  Ah,  yes ;  conditions  are  but  reasonable,"  said 
Everell. 

"  The  single  condition,"  said  Foxwell,  "  that  you 
will  never  again,  during  the  whole  length  of  your 
life,  see  or  communicate  with  my  niece:  —  and  for 
this  you  will  give  me  your  word  of  honour." 

"  Never  —  see  her  —  again  ?  "  said  Everell, 
faintly,  gazing  at  Foxwell  as  if  unsure  of  having 
heard  aright. 

"  Upon  your  word  of  honour,"  replied  Foxwell, 
who  did  not  alter  either  his  attitude  of  easy  grace 
nor  his  tone  of  courteous  nonchalance  during  the 
interview ;  "  but,  indeed,  as  a  part  of  the  condition, 
you  will  leave  this  neighbourhood  at  once.  That 
will  be  for  the  comfort  of  all  of  us  concerned,  as 

201 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

well  as  for  your  own  safety.  If,  after  twenty-four 
hours,  you  are  seen  hereabouts,  or  in  this  county, 
I  shall  be  freed  of  my  obligation:  in  that  event, 
beware  of  Jeremiah  Filson  and  the  justice's  men. 
And,  in  the  meantime,  my  niece  will  be  inaccessible. 
I  will  make  it  my  care  to  see  that  she  is  soon  mar- 
ried, so  there  will  be  no  hope  for  you  in  that  quar- 
ter. But  as  the  old  ballad  says  that  love  will  find 
out  the  way,  —  though  I  greatly  doubt  the  possi- 
bility in  this  case,  —  I  must,  nevertheless,  make 
doubly  sure  by  requiring,  as  I  have  said,  your  word 
of  honour  that  you  will  never  of  your  own  intention 
see  or  address  her,  directly  or  indirectly,  in  this 
world.  That  is  all,  I  think." 

"  It  is  too  much  that  you  ask ! "  cried  Everell. 
"  Your  condition  is  too  hard  —  I  can't  accept  it  — 
no,  sir,  I  cannot." 

"  Yet  if  I  hand  you  over  to  the  law  straightway," 
said  Foxwell,  quietly,  "  you  will  not  see  her 
again." 

"  There  will  still  be  the  possibility  of  escape,"  re- 
plied Everell ;  "  there  will  be  no  binding  word  of 
honour.  But  go  free  without  one  hope  of  ever 
meeting  her  again  ?  —  no,  make  the  condition  some- 
thing else,  I  beg  you,  sir;  or  hand  me  over  to  the 
law,  and  let  me  retain  my  right  of  escape." 

Lady  Strange's  eyes  shone  with  applause,  but 
202 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

Rashleigh  and  Mrs.  Winter  waited  for  the  scene  to 
continue.  After  a  moment's  silence,  Foxwell  began 
anew: 

"  Well,  sir,  I  must  congratulate  my  niece  upon 
your  devotion.  Rather  than  give  her  up  for  ever, 
you  will  risk  death.  You  hazard  all  upon  your 
chance  of  escape.  'Tis  a  slight  chance  enough :  that 
you  will  own." 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  Everell,  in  a  faltering  voice; 
"  but  'tis  something." 

"  Suppose  it  fails  you.  Then,  in  losing  your  life, 
you  lose  the  lady,  too.  Your  chance  of  seeing  her 
again  is  even  smaller  than  the  small  chance  of  your 
escape:  you  may  be  sure  that  special  precautions 
will  be  taken  with  you  —  such  that  your  chance  will 
be  hardly  worth  calling  by  that  name." 

Everell  sighed  deeply,  and  it  is  no  use  denying 
that  he  looked  plaintive  and  miserable. 

"But  what  if  I  propose  an  alternative?"  said 
Foxwell.  "  What  if  I  offer  to  make  you  our  guest 
here  —  for  a  week  —  as  free  as  any  other  guest, 
except  that  you  may  not  leave  the  grounds  or  put 
yourself  in  danger  of  discovery,  —  a  guest  with  all 
the  opportunities  of  meeting  my  niece  that  a  recog- 
nized suitor  might  have?" 

It  was  a  moment  before  Everell  could  speak. 
"  Sir,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Is  it 

203 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

a  jest  ?    In  God's  name,  don't  hold  out  such  a  pros- 
pect merely  to  play  with  me." 

"  'Tis  a  prospect  in  your  power  of  realizing,  upon 
my  honour." 

"  Then  your  generosity  —  but  generosity  is  too 
mean  a  word  —  I  know  not  how  to  describe  your 
action,  nor  to  express  my  gratitude." 

"  Pray  wait  till  you  have  heard  the  condition :  to 
everything  there  is  a  price." 

"  Whatever  it  be,  'twere  cheap  payment  for  such 
happiness.  I  won't  disguise  my  love  for  your  niece, 
sir:  why  should  I,  when  I  began  by  confessing  it? 
To  be  with  her  all  the  day,  without  anxiety  or 
risk  —  " 

"  For  a  week,  I  said." 

"  Such  a  week  will  be  worth  a  lifetime !  "  Everell 
declared. 

"  'Tis  well  you  count  it  so,  for  that  is  the  price 
at  which  it  is  offered.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  I 
mean,  you  shall  be  given  up  to  the  authorities.  If 
you  accept  this  proposal,  you  will  engage  upon  your 
honour  to  surrender  yourself  at  the  appointed  hour, 
and  to  forego  all  chance  of  escape  —  though  at  the 
same  time  every  precaution  will  be  taken  to  make 
sure  of  you." 

"  At  the  end  of  the  week  —  given  up?  "  repeated 
Everell,  again  startled  and  open-eyed. 

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THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Given  up  to  the  officers  of  justice,  with  advice 
to  use  special  care  against  your  escape  —  though, 
indeed,  your  word  of  honour  will  be  the  better 
security.  As  to  what  will  follow  —  your  convey- 
ance to  York,  your  trial,  and  the  rest  —  "  Foxwell 
gave  a  shrug  in  lieu  of  finishing  the  sentence. 

"  A  week,"  said  Everell,  rather  to  himself  than 
to  the  company,  "  a  week  with  her  —  to  be  abso- 
lutely sure  of  that !  —  " 

"  A  week  with  her,"  said  Foxwell,  "  and  then  to 
face  the  judges.  A  few  tedious  days  of  imprison- 
ment and  trial  —  hardly  to  be  reckoned  as  days  of 
life  —  and  '  the  rest  is  silence/  as  the  play  says. 
How  many  possible  years  of  life  is  it  you  would 
forfeit  to  pay  for  this  week?  Two  score,  perhaps, 

—  and  some  of  them  years  of  fine  young  manhood, 
too.    Well,  the  choice  is  yours.    You  may  give  life 
for  love,  if  you  wish.    Or  love  for  life,  if  you  will : 

—  my  first  offer  still  holds  —  'tis  still  in  your  power 
to  go  from  this  neighbourhood  at  once,  perfectly 
free,  and  to  find  your  way  abroad.     Egad,  when  I 
think  how  many  joyous  days  and  merry  nights  lie 
between  your  age  and  mine !  —  Life  is  pleasant  in 
France." 

"  I  well  know  that,"  said  Everell,  whose  thoughts 
had  responded  to  the  other's  words. 


205 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"  There  are  friends,  I  dare  say,  who  would  not 
be  sorry  to  see  you  again." 

"  Friends,  yes,  —  dear  friends !  "  mused  Everell. 

"  'Tis  not  fair,  Foxwell,"  Lady  Strange  put  in ; 
"  you  are  influencing  him." 

"  I  say  no  more.  Those  are  the  alternatives,  sir. 
Once  your  choice  is  made,  there  shall  be  no  going 
back  upon  it:  Love,  or  life:  —  if  you  decline  to 
choose,  you  are  pretty  certain  to  lose  both.  —  Well, 
sir,  take  a  few  minutes  to  think  upon  it.  I  see  these 
ladies  are  eager  to  hear  your  decision,  but  for  once 
you  may  leave  them  to  their  impatience." 

Everell  was  not  heedful  of  the  ladies.  Certain 
words  were  echoing  in  his  mind,  each  accompanied 
by  a  rush  of  the  ideas  attached  to  it :  life  —  love  — 
friends  —  joyous  days  and  merry  nights  —  but 
never  to  see  her  again !  —  to  fly  from  this  neigh- 
bourhood, from  the  garden.  —  Ah,  the  dear  garden ! 
To  be  with  the  adored  one  for  seven  days  —  blissful 
days,  with  her  by  his  side,  her  hand  in  his,  her  eyes 
softening  to  his,  her  voice  — 

"  Sir,  could  you  doubt  a  moment  ? "  said  the 
young  lover.  "  I  choose  her !  —  a  week  with  her ! 
I  hold  you  to  your  word  —  I'll  not  shirk  mine  when 
the  time  comes." 

"  Bravo!  I  knew  it! "  cried  Lady  Strange,  clap- 
ping her  hands. 

206 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Lady  Strange,  I  owe  you  five  guineas,"  said 
Foxwell,  gallantly.  "  Mr.  Everell,  at  this  hour  a 
week  hence  —  ten  o'clock,  shall  we  call  it  ?  —  you 
are  my  prisoner."  He  rang  the  bell,  and  Caleb  en- 
tered. "  Cut  this  gentleman's  cords  —  there  has 
been  a  mistake.  And  nothing  is  to  be  said  of  his 
presence  here,  or  of  what  has  occurred  to-night  — 
nay,  I'll  give  orders  separately  to  all  the  servants." 
He  waited  till  Everell  stood  entirely  freed ;  he  then 
sent  a  message  to  Miss  Foxwell,  asking  her  to 
come  to  the  drawing-room  if  she  had  not  yet 
retired. 

"  I  take  it,"  he  explained  to  Everell,  when  Caleb 
had  left  the  room,  "  you  would  have  her  know 
at  once  how  matters  have  fallen  out  —  as  far 
as  you  would  have  her  know  at  all  for  the  pres- 
ent—  that  you  are  to  be  our  guest  for  awhile,  at 
least." 

"  Certainly,  —  but "  —  and  here  Everell  turned 
pale  —  "  she  must  not  know  the  condition." 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,"  said  Foxwell,  smiling. 
"  For  the  comfort  of  both  of  us,  she  had  best  not 
know  —  till  afterward,  at  least." 

"  Afterward !  "  echoed  Everell ;  "  and  what  will 
be  her  feelings  then?  I  hadn't  thought  of  that." 

"  We  have  all  overlooked  that,  I  own.  We  have 
thought  only  of  you  and  your  feelings.  But  you 

207 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

need  not  be  dismayed  —  the  most  devoted  of  women 
are  not  inconsolable." 

"  'Tis  not  that  I  think  she  loves  me  much ;  but 
she  is  of  so  tender  a  nature,  when  she  learns  the 
price  I  shall  have  paid  —  yet  how  could  I  have 
chosen  otherwise,  even  considering  her  feelings  ?  — 
what  would  she  have  thought,  had  I  preferred  to 
renounce  her?  Or  suppose  I  had  declined  to 
choose?  " 

"  Why,  then,  her  feelings  would  be  the  same,  on 
your  being  handed  over  to  justice  at  once,  as  they 
will  be  a  week  hence.  Nay,  indeed,  in  a  week's 
time  she  may  not  be  as  sorry  to  be  rid  of  you.  We 
shall  see  when  the  time  comes:  if  need  be,  we  can 
hide  the  truth  from  her  then  as  now  —  when  the 
week  is  over,  you  can  take  your  leave  upon  some 
pretext,  and  trust  time  to  efface  your  image  from 
her  heart.  Take  my  advice,  trouble  yourself  not 
about  her  feelings :  be  happy  for  a  week,  and  don't 
think  of  '  afterward.'  " 

Everell  sighed,  but  in  truth  he  could  not  at  that 
time  see  how  her  feelings  could  have  been  spared 
in  any  measure  by  either  of  the  other  courses  open 
to  him.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  him  that  fidelity  to 
her  required  him  to  elect  as  he  had  done;  that  any 
other  choice  would  have  been  a  renunciation  of  her, 
a  treason  to  love.  So  let  him  be  happy  for  a  week : 

208 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

at  the  end,  it  would  be  time  to  think  how  to  save 
her  feelings. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  he  said  to  Foxwell;  "let  her 
know  nothing  but  that  I  am  to  be  your  guest  for  the 
present." 

"  So  be  it ;  and  you  will  help  us  all  to  keep  your 
presence  here  a  secret  from  the  outside  world.  Best 
never  appear  on  the  side  of  the  house  toward  the 
road.  —  But  we  can  talk  of  that  to-morrow,  at 
breakfast.  I  will  lay  the  servants  under  the  heaviest 
charges,  that  they  will  hardly  dare  mention  you  to 
one  another.  If  you  are  discovered  by  Jeremiah 
Filson  or  any  such,  not  only  may  I  fall  under  sus- 
picion, but  your  week  may  be  cut  short." 

"  I  will  be  cautious,  sir,  if  I  have  never  been  so 
in  my  life  before." 

"  And  you  had  best  go  by  some  other  name  in  the 
household.  Shall  we  call  you  —  ah  —  Mr.  Charl- 
son?" 

Everell  signified  his  willingness,  and  the  next 
moment  Georgiana  entered,  still  dressed  as  she  had 
been  in  the  garden.  Her  face  was  pale  and  anxious, 
but  her  eyes  brightened  as  they  fell  upon  Everell 
released  from  his  bonds.  She  was  close  followed 
by  Prudence,  whose  nose  shone  red  with  the  weep- 
ing in  which  she  had  copiously  indulged  to  the  de- 
light and  self-approval  of  her  romantic  soul. 

209 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"  Georgiana,"  said  Foxwell,  before  his  niece 
could  speak,  "  this  gentleman,  Mr.  Charlson,  will 
be  our  guest  for  a  time.  His  visit  must,  for  certain 
reasons,  be  kept  secret;  and  you,  I  am  sure,  will 
not  fail  in  the  duties  of  a  hostess.  I  am  going  now 
to  give  orders  for  his  accommodation.  —  Await  me 
here,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Charlson.  Ladies,  I  will 
join  you  presently  —  in  the  library  —  and  you, 
Rashleigh." 

The  three  London  visitors  took  the  hint  and 
sauntered  into  the  adjoining  room  as  Foxwell 
passed  out  to  the  hall. 

"  What  does  it  mean,  Everell  ?  "  asked  Georgiana, 
in  astonishment.  "  He  has  become  your  friend  ?  " 

"  I  am  to  be  your  guest,  as  he  has  said,"  replied 
Everell,  smiling  as  he  took  her  hand.  "  I  shall  be 
near  you  all  the  long  day  —  as  many  hours  as  you 
find  it  in  your  heart  to  give  me.  Sweet,  'tis  too 
great  happiness !  "  He  put  his  arm  gently  around 
her. 

"  Happiness !  "  said  she,  looking  up  into  his  eyes. 
"  'Tis  more  than  I  dare  believe.  My  uncle  shelters 
you  and  befriends  you !  —  Then  there  is  nothing  to 
separate  us  —  we  may  be  happy  together,  day  after 
day  —  for  ever !  " 

He  smiled,  and  summoned  his  wonted  gaiety. 
"  Well,  not  —  quite  —  for  ever,  my  darling !  " 

210 


The  smile  and  the  gaiety  had  so  nearly  died  out 
ere  he  finished  those  few  words,  that  he  was  fain 
to  draw  her  closer  to  him,  that  she  might  not  see 
his  face. 


211 


CHAPTER   XI. 

PROPOSALS 

LET  us  do  Mr.  Foxwell  justice.  He  had  honestly 
believed  that  Everell  would  choose  to  renounce  love 
and  be  set  free.  This  indeed  would  have  been  the 
most  humane  event  that  any  reasonable  person 
could  have  expected  Foxwell  to  bring  about.  He 
might,  of  course,  have  played  the  part  of  a  benefi- 
cent deity,  and  at  once  aided  the  Jacobite's  escape, 
approved  of  his  love,  and  sanctioned  the  future 
union  of  the  lovers.  But  he  was  no  Mr.  Allworthy. 
Indeed  it  is  more  than  doubtful  whether  Mr.  All- 
worthy  himself  would  have  carried  benevolence  to 
that  length.  A  flying  rebel,  with  a  price  on  his 
head,  whose  possessions  in  the  kingdom,  if  he  had 
any,  were  liable  to  confiscation,  was  not  the  suitor 
a  young  lady's  relation  could  be  supposed  to  favour 
offhand.  One  even  fears  that  the  virtuous  All- 
worthy  would  rather  have  interpreted  the  duties  of 
loyalty  in  all  strictness,  and  placed  the  captive  in 
the  hands  of  justice  immediately.  But  Foxwell, 


I 

THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

with  all  his  selfishness  and  callousness,  was  not  the 
man  to  make  patriotism  a  vice  to  that  extent,  unless 
there  was  something  to  gain  or  save  by  it.  He 
might  be  a  heartless  rake,  but  he  was  too  much  a 
gentleman  to  practise  that  degree  of  Roman  virtue 
without  any  personal  motive  of  profit  or  fear. 

So  the  best  course  had  seemed  to  be  to  send  the 
fugitive  packing,  and  nip  this  love-affair  in  the  bud. 
And  that  was  what  Foxwell  had  supposed  would 
result  from  the  alternative  offers.  In  any  reason- 
able issue  of  the  matter,  there  must  have  been  sep- 
aration for  the  lovers  and  sorrow  for  Georgiana. 
Would  that  sorrow  be  ultimately  greater  for  the 
postponement,  and  for  the  probable  deepening  of  the 
attachment  between  the  lovers  ?  Perhaps ;  but  Fox- 
well  had  not  looked  for  this  outcome.  The  cruelty 
of  his  little  experiment  upon  the  human  passions, 
then,  consisted  in  his  exposing  the  young  lover's 
heart,  and  playing  upon  it,  for  the  amusement  of 
onlookers.  The  cruelty  of  the  intention  was  not 
lessened  by  the  fact  that  Everell  himself,  wholly 
concerned  as  to  his  fate  and  his  love,  did  not  at 
the  time  see  himself  as  a  man  exhibited  and  played 
upon. 

Perhaps  Foxwell  and  his  friends  underwent  some 
self-reproach.  However  that  be,  it  is  certain  they 
had  the  delicacy  to  refrain  from  spying  or  intrud- 

213 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ing  upon  the  lovers  during  the  week  for  which 
Everell  had  so  devotedly  bargained.  The  party  of 
four  went  their  way,  and  the  party  of  two,  attended 
by  the  faithful  Prudence,  went  theirs,  both  parties 
meeting  twice  or  thrice  each  day  at  meals.  On  these 
occasions,  a  pleasant  courtesy  prevailed,  and  there 
was  no  rallying  of  the  lovers,  no  inquisitive  observa- 
tion of  them.  Indeed  it  is  doubtful  if  the  feelings 
of  young  lovers  were  ever  more  nicely  considered. 
The  two  found  themselves  always  favoured  by  that 
conspiracy  which  good-natured  people  customarily 
form  for  the  benefit  of  a  young  lady  and  her  fa- 
voured suitor.  Everell  found  that  he  was  not  even 
expected  to  remain  at  the  table  with  the  other  gen- 
tlemen after  the  ladies  had  gone,  nor  was  it  re- 
quired that  he  and  Georgiana  should  join  the  latter 
at  the  tea-table  or  at  cards.  The  lovers'  chief  place 
of  resort  within  the  house  was  the  library,  a  room 
quite  neglected  by  the  others,  who  preferred  only 
the  newest  plays,  poems,  and  magazines  for  their 
reading.  In  good  weather  the  lovers  sat  in  the 
old  garden,  or  strolled  in  the  park,  Foxwell  and 
his  visitors  going  farther  afield  for  their  outdoor 
amusements,  and  receiving  no  company  from  the 
neighbourhood.  Thus  the  young  couple,  from  their 
meeting  at  breakfast  to  their  parting  at  night,  passed 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

all  the  hours  together,  in  a  singular  freedom  from 
observant  eyes. 

We  shall  imitate  Foxwell  and  his  friends  in  this 
abstention  from  prying;  not  because  the  love-mak- 
ing of  the  two  young  people  is  sacred  from  us,  but 
because  such  love-making,  interesting  as  it  is  to 
the  participants,  is  sadly  tedious  to  the  spectator. 
The  love-stories  of  actual  people  are  interesting  for 
the  events  that  give  rise  to  their  love,  and  to  which 
their  love  gives  rise;  not  (excepting  the  critical 
moments  of  the  awakening,  the  unintentional  dis- 
closure, the  first  confession,  and  such)  for  the  reg- 
ulai  course  of  its  own  manifestation.  The  reader 
who  has  dreaded  the  slow  account  of  a  week's  love- 
making —  the  sighs,  the  gazes,  the  silences,  the 
hand-holdings,  the  poutings,  the  forgivings,  and 
all  the  rest  —  may  breathe  freely.  The  peculiar 
pathos  of  the  situation  of  these  young  lovers  — 
a  pathos  as  yet  perceptible  only  to  Everell  —  did 
not  much  alter  their  conduct  from  that  of  other 
young  lovers.  For  Everell  made  fair  shift  to  put 
the  future  out  of  sight,  to  regard  only  the  day: 
he  was  resolved  not  to  look  forward  till  the  last 
hour  of  his  term  should  arrive.  As  long  as  he  was 
with  Georgiana,  he  could  keep  to  this:  'twas  only 
when  he  had  retired  to  his  own  chamber  that  vis- 
ions of  the  approaching  end  would  harass  him  in 

215 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  darkness;  only  then  would  he  count  the  hours 
that  yet  remained. 

On  the  eventful  night  of  his  capture,  and  after 
Georgiana  had  retired,  Everell  had  obtained  Fox- 
well's  permission  to  communicate  with  John  Tarby 
by  means  of  the  keeper,  who,  as  he  had  learned 
from  Tarby  himself,  was  privately  on  excellent 
terms  with  the  poacher.  By  this  medium,  then, 
Everell  had  taken  leave  of  his  former  host  with 
due  expressions  of  thanks,  both  in  words  and  in 
gold,  and  had  obtained  the  cloak-bag  containing 
his  travelling  equipment.  Tarby  had  been  /left 
under  the  impression  that  the  young  gentleman, 
after  being  sheltered  secretly  for  a  time  at  Foxwell 
Court,  was  to  proceed  upon  his  journey. 

That  indeed  was  the  impression  of  the  servants 
at  Foxwell  Court,  and  of  Georgiana  herself.  Ever- 
ell did  not  tell  her  how  long  or  short  was  to  be  his 
visit,  and  she,  glad  enough  to  postpone  all  thought 
of  his  departure,  never  broached  the  subject.  Only 
once  did  he  hint  at  the  probability  of  his  leaving 
her  before  many  days.  It  was  when,  on  Saturday 
evening,  she  spoke  of  going  to  church  next  day. 
"  Nay,"  he  pleaded,  with  a  sudden  alarm  in  his 
eyes,  "  you  will  have  Sundays  enough  for  church- 
going,  when  I  am  not  here."  It  was  not  necessary 
to  say  more;  but  he  had  to  feign  excessive  light- 

216 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ness  of  heart  to  quiet  the  vague  apprehension  his 
own  earnestness  had  raised  in  her  mind. 

Foxwell  and  his  friends  appeared  at  church  that 
Sunday  without  Georgiana.  Her  absence  was  noted 
by  one  important  person,  at  least,  for,  after  the 
service,  Squire  Thornby  accosted  Foxwell  outside 
the  church  porch,  with  a  lack  of  preliminary  sal- 
utation, blurting  out: 

"  How  now,  neighbour  Foxwell,  'tis  no  illness, 
I  hope,  keeps  Miss  Foxwell  home  such  a  fine  day?  " 

"  No  illness,  thank  you,"  replied  Foxwell,  mildly; 
"  nothing  of  consequence,  that  is :  my  niece  slept 
rather  badly  last  night,  because  of  the  wind." 

"  I'm  glad  'tis  nothing  serious.  Tell  her  I  said 
so,  with  my  best  compliments.  Tell  her  she  was 
missed.  We  could  better  'a'  spared  you,  Foxwell, 
—  and  that's  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest,  if  ever 
there  was  one." 

This  pleasantry  was  accompanied  by  a  smile  of 
such  confident  insolence  that  the  onlookers  set  their 
ears  for  the  piercing  retort  they  thought  sure  to 
come.  It  was  on  the  tip  of  Foxwell's  tongue;  but 
he  checked  it,  dropped  his  eyes,  and  sought  refuge 
in  a  feebly  counterfeited  laugh.  His  enemy  looked 
around  triumphantly,  and  walked  off.  Foxwell, 
who  saw  nothing  in  the  Squire's  concern  for  Georgi- 
ana but  a  pretext  for  rudeness  to  himself,  digested 

217 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

his  chagrin  in  silence,  though  aware  of  the  sur- 
prised glances  of  Rashleigh  and  the  ladies,  to  whom 
he  had  mentioned  his  former  method  of  dealing 
with  this  booby. 

The  next  morning,  as  Foxwell  was  about  to  set 
forth  on  horseback  with  his  friends,  the  game- 
keeper sought  an  interview.  Being  ordered  to 
speak  out,  the  man  said  that  Squire  Thornby's  peo- 
ple had  again  broken  down  the  fence  on  t'other  side 
of  the  four  beeches,  and  were  busy  putting  it  up 
again  on  the  hither  side.  "  Us  were  going  to  drive 
them  back,  and  were  a'most  come  to  blows,  when 
the  Squire's  agent  told  us  we'd  best  come  first  to 
your  Honour,  and  see  as  if  you  hadn't  changed  your 
mind  about  the  rights  o'  that  bound'ry.  He  said  it 
in  such  a  manner,  sir,  as  how  I  thought  maybe  there 
was  some  new  agreement,  or  the  courts  had  de- 
cided, or  something  —  begging  pardon  if  I'm 
wrong,  sir.  So,  after  a  few  words,  I  thought  I'd 
better  see  your  Honour  afore  us  starts  a-breaking 
heads." 

Foxwell  had  been  able  to  keep  a  clear  brow,  and 
to  stifle  a  bitter  sigh,  but  he  could  not  prevent  his 
face  from  turning  a  shade  darker.  His  visitors, 
who  had  heard  the  keeper's  tale,  looked  with  curi- 
osity for  the  answer.  After  a  moment's  silence, 
Foxwell  said :  "  Oh,  damn  the  fence !  —  'tis  no 

218 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

matter :  —  yes,  we've  made  a  new  agreement ;  let 
Thornby's  men  alone,"  and  turned  his  horse  to  ride 
off  with  his  guests. 

He  was  by  turns  morose  and  excessively  mirth- 
ful on  that  day's  excursion.  In  the  afternoon,  as 
the  four  were  riding  up  the  slope  toward  the  house, 
they  saw  a  mounted  gentleman  emerge  through  the 
gateway.  Nearing  them,  he  proved  to  be  Thornby. 
Foxwell  dissembled  his  inward  rage,  and  had  suf- 
ficient self-command  to  greet  his  enemy  with  polite 
carelessness. 

"  I  suppose  you  came  to  see  me  in  regard  to  the 
fence,"  he  added,  reining  in  his  horse.  His  compan- 
ions also  stopped,  on  pretence  of  viewing  the  dis- 
tant sun-bathed  hills  to  the  west;  but  they  listened 
to  what  passed  between  their  host  and  his  foe. 

"  Fence  ?  "  said  Thornby.  "  Oh  no,  sir,  —  no 
need  to  see  you  in  regard  to  that.  I  don't  consult 
anybody  as  to  what  I  do  on  my  own  land  —  not 
even  such  a  wise  fellow  as  you,  Foxwell." 

"  Oh,  I  merely  thought  it  required  some  partic- 
ular occasion  to  persuade  you  to  visit  us  at  Foxwell 
Court.  I  heard  you  were  —  rebuilding  the  fence 
by  the  four  beeches." 

"  So  I  am,  that's  true  enough.  I  intend  to  do  a 
considerable  amount  of  rebuilding  of  that  sort; 
but  I  sha'n't  need  to  come  to  Foxwell  Court  on  that 

219 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

account.  No;  'twas  just  the  whim  brought  me 
to  Foxwell  Court  to-day  —  just  a  neighbourly  visit, 
that's  all." 

"  Then  pray  turn  back  with  us,"  said  Foxwell. 

"  No,  thankye,  sir.  I've  got  business  awaiting 
me  at  home.  Glad  to  find  Miss  Foxwell  is  quite 
herself  again.  —  No,  I  won't  trouble  you  in  respect 
of  my  fences,  Foxwell,  —  not  me.  Good  evening 
to  you." 

The  Squire's  assured,  derisive  manner  made  his 
speeches  doubly  exasperating.  As  Foxwell  rode  on 
with  his  guests,  he  could  only  suppose  that  his 
enemy  had  come  to  Foxwell  Court  for  the  purpose 
of  exulting  over  him  upon  this  new  settlement  of 
the  old  boundary  dispute.  As  the  reader  knows, 
however,  Foxwell  Court  had  another  attraction  for 
Mr.  Thornby.  He  had,  in  fact,  rejoiced  at  Fox- 
well's  absence,  and,  upon  arrival,  had  asked  to  see 
Miss  Foxwell.  The  servant  found  her  walking  in 
the  garden  with  Everell;  but  she  sent  her  excuses 
to  the  visitor,  whom  she  then  casually  described 
to  Everell  as  a  neighbour  having  some  business 
with  her  uncle.  But  the  servant  presently  returned, 
saying  that  Mr.  Thornby  declared  his  business  im- 
portant, and  would  come  to  her  in  the  garden 
if  it  was  a  trouble  for  her  to  go  to  him  in  the 
house, 

220 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

Fearing  a  second  refusal  might  make  the  Squire 
too  inquisitive,  Georgiana  obtained  leave  from 
Everell  to  go  and  get  rid  of  this  gentleman.  As 
she  entered  the  drawing-room,  where  Thornby 
waited,  she  began  abruptly  by  saying  that  she  was 
very  much  occupied,  and  that  she  hoped  his  business 
would  not  take  many  minutes. 

"  Why,  now,  I'll  tell  you  truth,  Miss  Foxwell," 
was  the  reply,  "  'twas  just  for  another  glimpse  of 
yourself  that  I  came." 

"  But  you  said  important  business,"  answered 
Miss  Foxwell,  looking  her  displeasure. 

"  Well,  and  it  was  important  to  me.  When  I 
thought  of  you,  I  couldn't  let  my  horse  pass  the 
gate  without  turning  in.  To  tell  the  truth  again, 
'twas  the  thought  of  you  that  made  me  ride  in  this 
here  direction.  You  wasn't  at  church  yesterday  — 
I'd  been  looking  forward  to  see  you  there.  For  my 
life,  I  ha'n't  been  able  to  get  your  face  out  of  my 
head  this  whole  week  past,  odd  rabbit  me  if  I  have ! 
—  not  that  I  ever  wanted  to,  neither."  The  rustic 
gentleman  had  lapsed  into  a  state  of  red-faced  con- 
fusion which  at  another  time  Georgiana  would  have 
pitied;  but  just  now  she  was  merciless  in  showing 
her  annoyance. 

"  I'm  vastly  flattered,  Mr.  Thornby ;  but  you 
have  come  at  a  time  when  I'm  very  much  taken  up 

221 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

with  my  own  affairs  —  very  much  taken  up.     So 

I  beg  you'll  excuse  me." 

"  Oh,   now,   wait   a   minute,    Miss   Foxwell,    as 

you've  got  a  kind  Christian  heart.     Why,  rat  me! 

if  you  knew  as  how  I've  pined  to  see  you  again 

since  t'other  day,  I'll  warrant  you'd  never  go  to 

treat    me    so    unneighbourly.      If    you    knew    as 

how  —  " 

"  Really  I  must  go,  Mr.  Thornby,  —  really." 
"  Why  can't  we  be  neighbourly,  Miss  Foxwell, 

—  us  two  ?    Your  uncle  and  me  ha'n't  always  been 
sworn  brothers,  so  to  speak,  but  I  think  as  how 
we  shall  be  mending  that;    and  if  you'd  only  just 

—  er  —  ah  —  be  neighbourly  like  —  " 

"  I'm  perfectly  willing  we  should  be  good  neigh- 
bours, Mr.  Thornby,  —  perfectly.  But  just  now 
if  you'll  do  me  the  favour  to  excuse  —  " 

"  Ah,  that's  what  I  hoped  for  from  such  a  sweet, 
gentle  face,  Miss  Foxwell.  Perfectly  willing  to  be 
good  neighbours.  You  make  me  a  happy  man,  by 
the  lord  Harry,  you  do  that!  Ecod,  if  you  knew 
as  how  I've  laid  awake  nights  this  week  past  —  " 

Georgiana,  convinced  that  fair  means  would  not 
serve,  feigned  a  sudden  dizziness,  which  threw  the 
Squire  into  such  embarrassment,  as  he  knew  noth- 
ing of  what  to  do  for  a  lady  in  a  faint,  that  he  was 
very  glad  to  leave  the  field,  though  he  manfully 

222 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

remained  until  she  declared  she  was  better  and 
would  entirely  recover  if  left  alone.  As  soon  as 
she  saw  him  ride  out  of  the  courtyard,  she  went 
back  to  Everell  in  the  garden. 

"  How  long  you  stayed !  "  said  he. 

"  Nay,  if  you  knew  this  gentleman!  —  so  stupid, 
and  repeating  himself  a  hundred  times :  —  and  after 
all,  'twas  nothing  I  could  be  of  use  in." 

Alluded  to  in  this  careless  manner,  the  person- 
ality of  Thornby  awakened  no  curiosity  in  Everell' s 
mind.  He  vaguely  remembered  the  name  as  that 
of  a  landowner  in  the  neighbourhood,  whom  the 
innkeeper  and  John  Tarby  had  mentioned.  How 
glad  Mr.  Foxwell  would  have  been  could  he  have 
felt  a  like  indifference  with  regard  to  the  Squire! 
The  reader  is  aware  of  their  encounter  as  Thornby 
was  riding  down  the  slope  that  afternoon.  As  soon 
after  that  as  Foxwell  found  himself  alone  with 
Rashleigh,  his  vexation  broke  out  in  words. 

"  Damn  that  Thornby !  Damn,  damn,  damn 
hhn!" 

"  The  gentleman  you  were  accustomed  to  take 
down  in  company,  didn't  you  tell  us  ?  "  said  Rash- 
leigh with  marked  innocence. 

"  Ay,  George,  laugh  at  me :  I  deserve  it,  I  own. 
But  something  has  happened  since  I  told  you  that. 
No  doubt  you  remember,  the  fellow  came  to  see 

223 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

me  the  other  day.  Do  you  know  what  he  showed 
me  then?" 

"  Not  I  —  unless  it  was  a  list  of  men  he  had 
killed." 

"  Alas,  nothing  of  that  sort.  To  make  a  long 
story  short,  years  ago  in  London,  when  I  was  in 
bad  straits,  I  wrote  a  foolish  letter  —  imbecile  that 
I  was !  —  wrote  it  in  the  madness  of  anger,  pov- 
erty, imprisonment,  —  in  the  recklessness  of  drink." 

"  We  make  such  blunders  now  and  then,  cer- 
tainly," was  Rashleigh's  sage  comment. 

"  I  soon  enough  realized  my  blunder.  The  recip- 
ient of  the  letter  —  he  is  dead  now  —  told  me  he 
had  burnt  it.  It  contained  things  I  should  be  sorry 
to  have  everybody  see." 

"But  if  it  was  burnt?" 

"  It  wasn't :  there  was  trickery  somewhere.  And 
the  letter  is  now  in  the  possession  of  this  Thornby. 
'Tis  the  real  letter  —  I  recognized  it.  He  will  show 
it  to  the  world  if  I  provoke  him.  Till  I  can  get 
it  from  him  —  and  heaven  knows  how  that  is  to 
be  done:  he  is  a  cunning  fellow,  and  on  the  qtti 
vvve  —  well,  now  you  understand  my  meekness. 
He  really  has  me  at  his  mercy  —  hardly  less  than 
I  have  the  Jacobite  yonder  at  mine." 

From  the  window  the  gentlemen  could  see  Ever- 
ell  and  Georgiana  strolling  within  the  verge  of  the 

224 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

park.  As  Foxwell  evinced  no  mind  to  say  more 
about  Thornby  or  the  letter,  but  rather  seemed  to 
dismiss  them  with  a  sigh  of  disgust,  Rashleigh  took 
the  cue  for  a  change  of  subject. 

"  Will  you  really  hand  over  the  Jacobite,  after  all, 
Bob?" 

"  I  haven't  thought  much  of  that  matter,"  re- 
plied Foxwell.  "  I  frankly  didn't  expect  him  to 
choose  as  he  did." 

"  His  time  is  coming  to  an  end,"  said  Rashleigh. 
"  You  will  soon  have  to  decide." 

"  Why,  deuce  take  it,  has  he  not  decided  for  him- 
self? What  can  I  do  but  hand  him  over?  Were 
I  to  let  him  go  free,  he  would  probably  be  caught, 
nevertheless:  in  the  end  I  should  be  in  trouble  for 
having  harboured  him." 

"  You'll  pardon  me,  of  course,  for  introducing 
the  subject.  We've  all  avoided  it,  as  you  set  the 
example  of  doing.  But  to-day  Lady  Strange  was 
hoping  that  you  could  find  it  in  your  heart  to  let 
the  young  fellow  go." 

"  Oh,  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart ;  but  should 
I  find  it  to  my  interest?  Several  possibilities  have 
occurred  to  me,  but  they  all  seem  attended  by  risk 
or  inconvenience.  The  safest  and  easiest  course  is 
clearly  to  observe  both  the  law  and  our  agreement. 
The  man  Filson  is  still  in  the  village.  He  seems 

225 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  have  an  instinct  that  his  prey  is  in  the  neighbour- 
hood —  nay,  as  he  looked  at  me  yesterday  at  church, 
I  could  almost  imagine  he  suspected  something. 
He  has  a  clue,  perhaps.  He  told  Caleb  he  might 
be  hereabouts  for  another  fortnight.  So  you  see 
—  well,  I  can  make  up  my  mind  at  the  last  moment 
if  need  be  —  one  can  always  toss  a  coin.  Tis  time 
we  were  changing  our  clothes." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of  Everell's 
week,  something  occurred  to  bring  Foxwell  to  a 
decision  without  recourse  to  the  toss  of  a  coin. 
Georgiana  having  mentioned  to  Everell  a  minia- 
ture portrait  of  herself,  he  had  eagerly  expressed 
a  desire  to  see  it.  He  had  thought  she  would  send 
Prudence  for  it,  but  Georgiana,  saying  that  she 
alone  could  find  it,  and  that  she  would  return  in 
a  minute,  left  Everell  in  the  garden.  As  she  en- 
tered the  hall,  on  the  way  to  her  apartments,  she 
saw  her  uncle  there  in  the  act  of  greeting  Squire 
Thornby,  who  had  evidently  just  dismounted  from 
his  horse.  She  curtsied,  and  essayed  to  pass  swiftly 
to  the  stairs,  but  Thornby  intervened. 

"  Nay,  one  moment,  Miss  Foxwell,"  said  he, 
with  precipitation,  and  looking  very  red  in  the  face. 
"  I'm  going  to  say  something  to  your  uncle  that 
concerns  you."  As  he  stood  directly  in  her  way, 
she  had  no  choice  but  to  stop.  She  did  not  conceal 

226 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

her  impatience.  "  It  needn't  keep  you  long," 
Thornby  went  on,  "  for  I  won't  beat  about  the 
bush.  Mr.  Foxwell,  I  may  say  without  vanity  I'm 
a  man  of  some  substance  as  fortunes  go  in  this  here 
part  of  the  world.  And,  in  course,  you  know  I'm 
a  bachelor.  Not  because  I'm  a  woman-hater,  but 
because,  to  be  all  open  and  aboveboard,  I  never 
yet  saw  the  woman  in  these  parts  that  I  thought  fit 
to  be  mistress  of  Thornby  Hall  —  damn  me  if  I 
ever  did !  " 

"  I  can  understand  your  feeling,  Mr.  Thornby," 
said  Foxwell,  while  the  Squire  paused  and  glared 
at  both  uncle  and  niece. 

"  That  is  to  say/'  resumed  Thornby,  "  never  till 
a  few  days  ago.  Ecod,  it  seems  more  than  a  few 
days,  one  way  I  look  at  it!  I  mean,  I  saw  your 
niece  —  yes,  you,  Miss  Foxwell,  I  say  it  to  your 
face.  Now  the  secret's  out.  I  hadn't  thought  to 
come  to  the  point  so  soon  —  I  thought  to  go  softly, 
and  court  the  young  lady  awhile,  and  so  forth  — 
but  hang  me  if  I  desire  to  wait  and  give  somebody 
else  a  chance  to  carry  off  such  a  prize.  —  Well, 
what  d'ye  say,  Miss  Foxwell  ?  " 

Georgiana  was  quite  too  confounded  to  say  any- 
thing. 

"  She  says  you  do  us  a  great  honour,  Mr. 
Thornby,"  put  in  Foxwell,  discreetly ;  "  a  very 

227 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

great  honour.  My  niece,  I  am  sure,  is  fully  sensi- 
ble of  the  honour.  But  are  you  aware  how  small 
her  fortune  is  ?  " 

"  Hang  fortunes !  I've  enough  for  two !  "  cried 
Thornby. 

"  And  then,  sir,"  went  on  Foxwell,  with  quiet 
frankness,  "  upon  her  marriage,  you  must  know, 
the  division  of  our  estate  will  leave  me  rather  ill 
provided  for.  That  would  not  influence  me,  were 
she  not  so  young;  but,  as  it  is,  she  can  very  well 
afford  to  wait  two  or  three  years,  during  which 
I  may  improve  my  affairs." 

"  You  sha'n't  suffer,  Foxwell,"  said  the  Squire, 
bluntly :  "  you  shall  come  out  of  the  affair  as  well 
provided  for  as  both  of  you  now  are  together.  But 
what  does  the  lady  say?" 

"  The  lady  says,  no !  "  And  emphatically  she  said 
it,  too,  now  that  she  had  found  her  voice.  "  I 
thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Thornby;  but  'tis  not 
to  be  heard  of!" 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Miss  Foxwell !  Don't  be  so 
determined  all  in  a  moment.  Consider  it  —  be  kind 
—  be  —  be  neighbourly !  " 

"  'Tis  not  to  be  heard  of,  I  assure  you,  Mr. 
Thornby.  No,  no,  no,  I  say !  I  will  never  consider 
it  —  I  will  never  —  "  As  Thornby  still  barred  her 
path  to  the  stairs,  she  turned  suddenly  and  hastened 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

from  the  hall  by  the  way  she  had  entered.  After 
making  sure  she  was  not  followed,  she  rejoined 
Everell,  with  an  excuse  for  postponing  her  quest  of 
the  miniature.  She  trusted  to  her  uncle  to  soften  the 
refusal  of  Thornby's  offer;  for  she  could  not  but 
think,  although  she  had  nobody's  word  for  it,  that 
Foxwell  had  decided  to  favour  Everell  as  her  suitor 
—  a  turn  she  attributed  to  some  assurance  of  Ever- 
ell's  prospects  in  France,  which,  she  supposed,  the 
fugitive  had  given  Foxwell  on  the  night  of  the  cap- 
ture. Indeed  in  no  other  way  could  she  account 
for  the  strange  situation  that  existed;  she  was 
glad  enough  to  accept  without  question  a  state  of 
affairs  in  which  she  found  joy  for  the  present  and 
hope  for  the  future. 

But  her  exit  from  the  hall  did  not  finish  the  scene 
there.  Thornby,  after  staring  open-mouthed  a  mo- 
ment, addressed  himself  to  Foxwell: 

"  Ecod,  why  should  she  fly  out  like  that  —  well, 
well,  I  haven't  the  gift  of  fine  speech.  You  have 
that,  Foxwell,  and  I  look  to  you  to  persuade  her, 
d'ye  hear?  I'll  make  it  worth  your  while.  The 
day  I  marry  her,  you  shall  have  back  that  there 
letter  we  both  know  of;  but  if  she  won't  have  me, 
damme  if  I  know  what  use  I  sha'n't  make  of 
it!" 

"  I  hold  you  to  that  promise,"  said  Foxwell, 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

quickly,  "  and  to  what  you  mentioned  in  regard 
to  terms  of  settlement." 

"  As  to  providing  for  you,  and  so  forth  ?  You'll 
find  me  as  good  as  my  word:  I'll  have  my  lawyer 
ready  for  yours  the  minute  she  gives  her  consent." 

"  Tis  but  a  girl's  coyness  that  stands  in  the  way : 
we  shall  break  that  in  a  little  time." 

"  Nay,  no  force,  neither !  "  said  Thornby.  "  It 
must  be  of  her  own  free  will  —  she  must  tell  me 
herself  she  takes  me  willingly  —  you're  to  persuade, 
not  compel." 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  dare  say  I'd  best  not  see  her  again  to-day," 
the  Squire  faltered. 

"  Not  for  a  few  days,  at  the  least,  I  should  ad- 
vise." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  know.  I'll  do  my  best  to 
bide  patient  for  two  days." 

"  But  I  scarcely  hope  to  change  her  mind  within 
a  week,"  said  Foxwell,  thoughtfully. 

"  I'll  come  to  see  how  you  fare,  nevertheless.  — 
If  you  do  succeed  sooner  than  you  hope,  send  me 
word  immediately." 

Left  alone,  Foxwell  paced  the  hall,  in  cogitation. 
He  was  joined  presently  by  Rashleigh. 

"  Egad,  Bob,  your  meditations  must  have  grown 
pleasanter,  to  make  you  smile  to  yourself." 

230 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Was  I  smiling?  Well,  you  must  know  my 
excellent  niece  has  received  an  offer  of  marriage 
—  a  mighty  advantageous  one.  The  little  fool 
spurns  it :  the  Jacobite  stands  in  the  way,  of  course, 
and  will  as  long  as  he  is  alive  to  communicate  with 
her.  I  shall  have  to  do  my  duty  as  a  loyal  subject 
of  King  George,  I  see." 

"  But  will  she  be  the  more  favourable  to  another 
suitor,  while  the  one  she  loves  is  about  being 
hanged  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  can  keep  the  Jacobite's  fate  from 
her  knowledge.  'Tis  plain  he  hasn't  told  her  of 
our  bargain :  he  probably  will  not  tell  her  —  prob- 
ably will  but  announce  his  departure  on  some  pre- 
text—  may  indeed  say  nothing  of  it,  leaving  us  to 
break  it.  I  will  deliver  him  up  to-night,  but  not 
in  her  presence.  At  ten  o'clock  his  claims  cease. 
If  he  has  meanwhile  prepared  her  for  his  going, 
well  and  good :  if  not,  she  shall  think  he  has  taken 
sudden  leave  for  his  own  reasons.  Hearing  no 
more  of  him,  she  will  put  his  silence  down  to  in- 
constancy; in  that  case,  pride  may  incline  her  to 
the  other  man.  If  she  learns  the  truth,  she  will 
be  too  broken  to  resist  my  persuasions  long.  —  I'm 
sorry  for  the  rebel:  but  there's  much  at  stake  for 
me  in  the  affair  —  and  'tis  only  what  he  agreed 
to  and  expects  —  what  he  risked  before  ever  I  saw 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

him  —  his  just  deserts  under  the  law.  The  girl 
will  suffer,  too,  —  but  not  for  many  days.  I  hope 
he  will  not  tell  her  the  full  truth." 

Everell  himself  was  in  doubt  as  to  what  he  should 
tell  her.  He  was  trying  still  to  postpone  considera- 
tion of  the  end  so  close  at  hand.  He  was  sorely 
perplexed  for  her  sake,  for  he  knew  now  how  far 
beyond  mere  compassion  her  love  was. 


232 


CHAPTER   XII. 

TEARS 

EVERELL'S  last  meal  at  Foxwell  Court  was  not 
marked  by  lively  conversation.  He  had  his  own 
thoughts,  or,  rather,  his  own  confused  and  whirling 
state  of  mind,  so  that  he  scarce  knew  whether  the 
others  spoke  or  were  silent.  Outwardly  he  still 
maintained  a  brave  face,  so  that  Georgiana  might 
not  yet  be  alarmed.  The  young  lady  herself  had 
never  taken  much  part  in  the  table  talk.  Lady 
Strange  and  Rashleigh  felt  the  occasion  too  sensi- 
bly to  be  capable  of  easy  discourse,  and  Foxwell 
knew  a  gentleman's  part  too  well  to  intrude  a  gaiety 
either  real  or  feigned.  He  quietly  kept  the  ball 
rolling,  however,  with  Mrs.  Winter,  who  alone  — 
save  Georgiana  —  seemed  untouched  by  the  shadow 
of  coming  events. 

As  soon  as  the  ladies  had  finished,  Georgiana 
left  the  room  for  the  library.  Everell,  with  a  bow 
to  the  company,  turned  to  follow  her. 

Lady  Strange,  already  risen,  laid  a  gentle  hand 
233 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

upon  his  sleeve  and  said,  softly :  "  Upon  my  soul, 
sir,  I  pity  you !  " 

He  looked  2t  her  a  moment;  then,  summoning  a 
smile,  answered :  "  I  thank  you  from  my  heart ; 
but  'tis  not  near  ten  o'clock.  I  have  some  hours 
yet  remaining.  Ladies,  your  servant." 

When  he  had  gone  out,  Mrs.  Winter  said :  "  So 
you  may  keep  your  pity  till  ten  o'clock,  Diana.  Sure 
the  young  fellow  carries  it  off  well.  'Twill  be 
worth  seeing  if  he  does  so  to  the  end.  Ten  o'clock 
—  'tis  several  hours  off,  and  card-playing  begins 
to  be  tedious.  What  a  long  evening  'twill  be !  " 

"  Short  enough  for  those  two  young  lovers," 
said  Lady  Strange,  with  a  sigh,  as  she  passed  to 
the  drawing-room. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  made  your  arrangements, 
Bob,"  said  Rashleigh,  when  the  two  gentlemen  were 
alone ;  "  for  delivering  him  up,  I  mean." 

"  They  are  very  simple.  I  will  send  Joseph  with 
a  message  to  Jeremiah  Filson  an  hour  or  so  before 
ten  o'clock.  Filson  will  require  a  little  time  to 
muster  the  justice's  men;  he  may  have  to  go  to 
Thornby  Hall  —  no  doubt  Thornby's  clerk  will 
command  the  party,  to  make  sure  that  all  is  regu- 
lar. So  'twill  scarce  be  possible  for  them  to  arrive 
before  ten:  in  any  case,  I'll  warn  Filson  they 
mustn't  do  so.  Till  ten  I  may  not  call  the  rebel 

234 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

from  Georgiana's  presence.  I  hope  he  will  leave 
her  in  ignorance.  Well,  we  shall  see." 

In  the  library  Georgiana  sat  reading  to  her  lover. 
What  the  words  meant,  what  the  book  was,  he 
hardly  knew;  she  would  have  preferred  to  be  the 
listener,  but  in  that  case  he  would  have  had  to  keep 
his  eyes  upon  the  page,  and  he  would  rather  keep 
them  upon  her  face.  He  could  interrupt  when  he 
chose,  and  then  her  eyes  rose  to  meet  his;  so  that 
he  often  interrupted.  Suddenly  he  remembered  the 
miniature  she  had  started  to  get  for  him  in  the 
afternoon;  and  now  the  desire  to  possess  it  —  to 
have  that  image  of  her  beauty  to  carry  with  him 
to  the  end  —  grew  strong  in  a  moment.  He  re- 
minded her. 

She  rose  at  once  to  go  to  her  room  for  it,  saying, 
as  before,  that  only  she  could  find  it.  He  followed 
her  through  the  dining-room;  which  was  now  de- 
serted, as  Foxwell  and  Rashleigh  had  soon  joined 
the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room.  In  the  wide  en- 
trance-hall, as  Everell  could  accompany  her  no  far- 
ther, he  caught  her  hand  lightly,  and  said : 

"  Don't  be  long  in  finding  it,  I  pray.  Remember, 
every  moment  — "  He  checked  himself,  and 
turned  the  supplication  to  gaiety  by  a  smile.  "  Be 
considerate  of  my  impatience,  dear." 

Struck  by  his  manner,  she  looked  searchingly  at 
235 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

his  face.  But  he  kissed  her  hand  in  a  playful  way, 
and  gave  it  a  little  toss  toward  the  stairway;  up 
which  she  hastened  a  moment  later,  reassured. 

There  was  a  footman  stationed  in  the  entrance- 
hall,  and  Everell,  not  wishing  his  mood  to  be  ob- 
served, went  back  into  the  dining-room  to  await 
Georgiana's  return.  He  still  held  in  one  hand  the 
book  from  which  she  had  been  reading.  He  turned 
the  pages,  gazing  at  the  words,  but  receiving  no 
impression  from  them.  The  table  remained  as  the 
gentlemen  had  left  it,  except  that  the  candelabrum 
had  been  removed,  only  two  candles  in  wall-sconces 
remaining  to  light  the  room.  The  fire  in  the  chim- 
ney-place was  low,  and  the  air  rather  chill,  for 
the  evening  had  set  in  with  a  cold  wind.  "  Little 
do  I  care,  though  it  freeze  and  blow,"  thought 
Everell,  standing  by  the  fireplace.  "  Why  does  she 
delay  ?  Cruel !  —  but  she  knows  not.  The  minutes ! 

—  the  minutes  I  am  losing !  " 

But  in  truth  she  was  expeditious,  and  so  quiet  in 
her  return  that  she  entered  the  room  before  he  had 
heard  her  step.  He  went  to  her  with  a  subdued  cry, 
seized  the  miniature  from  her  hand,  and  pressed  it 

—  and  then  the  hand  itself  —  with  passionate  ten- 
derness to  his  lips. 

"  It  shall  never  leave  me,"  he  said.     "  It  shall 


236 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

be  the  last  thing  I  look  upon  —  it  shall  feel  the  last 
beat  of  my  heart." 

"  But  that  will  be  many,  many  years  in  the  fu- 
ture," said  Georgiana,  with  a  half-comic  air  of  com- 
plaint, "  and  meanwhile  you  don't  even  look  at  the 
picture  now !  " 

"  Time  enough  for  that !  —  Let  me  look  only  at 
you  now." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  There  is  time  enough  for 
looking  at  me,  too.  Tell  me  if  the  likeness  flatters 
me." 

"  Nothing  could  do  that.     'Tis  a  lovely  portrait 

—  never  was  a  lovelier;    but  the  eyes  are  not  as 
sweet  as  the  original's  —  nor  the  face  as  angelic  — 
nor  the  hair  as  soft  —  nor  the  colour  as   fair  — 
nor  the  look  as  tender.     'Tis  nothing  to  the  life 

—  and  yet  'tis  adorable.     'Twas  kindly  thought,  to 
give  it  me,  —  more  kindly  than  you  know,  dear." 

He  kissed  it  once  more;  then,  having  placed  it 
carefully  in  the  breast  pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  took 
both  her  hands,  and  regarded  her  with  an  intentness 
that  reawoke  the  vague  alarm  she  had  felt  in  the 
hall. 

"  Why  do  you  look  in  that  manner,  Everell  ? 
Why  do  you  speak  so  strangely  this  evening?  You 
make  me  almost  afraid  —  for  you,  that  is  —  nay, 
for  both  of  us.  What  is  it?  " 

237 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Nothing  —  nothing,  sweet !  "  But  whatever  he 
might  say,  it  was  no  longer  possible  for  him  to 
counterfeit  either  gaiety  or  unconcern  with  any  suc- 
cess. "  God  knows,  I  would  be  the  same  now  — 
I  would  have  us  both  be  the  same  now  —  as  we 
have  been  all  this  week.  I  grudge  every  thought 
that  we  give  to  anything  but  our  love.  Let  us  have 
the  full  worth  of  each  moment,  to  the  very  end.  — 
Nay,  what  am  I  saying?  I  rave,  I  think.  Yes, 
yes,  dear,  I  speak  strangely  —  strangely  was  well 
said." 

"  Everell,  you  frighten  me !  What  is  behind  all 
this  ?  —  what  is  it  you  have  in  mind  ?  " 

"  Only  you,  dear :  you,  as  you  are  at  this  instant. 
There  is  nothing  but  this  instant  —  no  past,  no 
future !  —  there  is  only  now,  with  you  in  my  arms, 
and  your  eyes  looking  into  mine.  Oh,  if  the  course 
of  time  could  be  stopped,  and  this  moment  last  for 
ever!" 

"  I  should  be  content,"  said  Georgiana,  taking 
refuge  in  the  possibility  that  his  manner  might  be 
the  effect  of  a  transient  excess  of  emotion,  such 
as  ardent  lovers  sometimes  experience.  "  But 
haven't  we  all  our  lives  in  which  to  love  each  other  ? 
We  must  only  guard  against  your  being  taken.  But 
you'll  be  safe  once  you  are  out  of  England  —  as 
you  will  be  by  and  by  —  not  yet,  of  course.  And 

238 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

then  after  awhile  we  shall  meet  again  in  France. 
My  only  dread  is  of  the  separation  meanwhile  — 
'tis  fearful  to  think  of  separation,  even  for  a  short 
time,  but  doubtless  it  must  be  —  "  She  broke  off, 
with  a  sigh. 

"  Ay,  must  be !  "  Everell  replied,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  But  it  must  not  be  long.  I  believe  my  uncle 
will  be  glad  of  an  occasion  to  visit  France.  And 
then,  when  danger  and  separation  are  past,  what 
happiness ! " 

She  had,  it  will  be  seen,  formed  her  own  plans 
for  the  future;  and  had  talked  of  them,  too,  more 
than  once  in  the  last  few  days,  taking  her  lover's 
acquiescence  for  granted,  as  indeed  his  manifesta- 
tions of  love  gave  her  full  right  to  do.  Such  in- 
itiative on  the  woman's  side  is,  by  a  convention 
of  romancers,  assumed  to  be  indelicate;  if  it  be  so, 
then  the  world  must  grant  that  real  women  are 
not  the  delicate  creatures  they  have  been  taken  for. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  Georgiana's  dreams  of  the  future 
had  been  bitter-sweet  hearing  to  Everell,  though 
he  saw  nothing  indelicate  in  her  mentioning  them. 
Yet  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  disillusion  her. 
But  now  at  last,  when  the  hour  was  drawing 
near  — 

"  Nay,  talk  not  of  the  future,  dear,"  he  said,  hold- 
ing her  close  in  his  arms,  and  endeavouring  to  speak 

239 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

without  wildness.  "  There  is  only  the  present,  I 
say.  Life  is  full  of  uncertainty.  Who  can  tell? 
This  separation  —  it  may  be  final  —  we  may  not 
see  each  other  again." 

"  Now  you  start  my  fears  again !  "  cried  Georgi- 
ana.  "  You  puzzle  me  to-night,  Everell.  There's 
something  in  your  thoughts  —  something  in  your 
heart.  Look  at  me:  you  are  pale  —  one  would 
suppose  a  calamity  was  before  us.  What  is  it? 
Oh,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  tell  me !  " 

"  Nay,  'tis  nothing,  I  protest.  —  And  yet  you 
must  know  too  soon.  Why  not  from  me?  Who 
has  such  love  for  you  as  I  have?  who  can  feel  for 
you  as  I  can?  who  would  try  so  fondly  to  con- 
sole?" 

"  You  are  right,  Everell ;  let  me  hear  it  from 
you!  Oh,  speak,  dear!" 

"  'Tis  —  only  this,  sweetheart,"  he  said,  when  he 
could  command  his  voice :  "  we  are  to  part  soon. 
I  am  going  away." 

"  Soon  ?  How  soon  ?  Certainly,  you  must  go 
to  France  —  but  not  yet." 

"  Ay,  that  is  it,  dear :  I  must  go,  I  know  not  how 
soon.  Perhaps  —  this  very  night." 

"  This  night?  Impossible!  You  have  said  noth- 
ing to  me  of  going  —  'tis  too  unexpected !  " 

"  Forgive  me,  dear,"  he  pleaded,  simply.  "  I 
240 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

wished  not  to  cloud  our  happiness  with  any  thought 
of  separation ;  so  I  never  spoke  of  —  my  day  of 
departure." 

"  Nay,  but  I  must  have  time  —  to  strengthen  my 
heart !  And  we  have  arranged  nothing  yet  —  in 
regard  to  meeting  again  —  no  particulars.  There 
is  everything  to  be  discussed  before  you  go.  This 
separation  —  how  long  is  it  to  last?"  Her  voice 
and  eyes  were  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

"  Longer,  dear,  than  I  have  the  heart  to  tell !  — 
Oh,  sweet,  forgive,  forgive  me !  When  I  bargained 
for  one  blissful  week,  'twas  only  of  myself  I 
thought  —  I  weighed  my  happiness  against  only 
the  price  /  was  to  pay.  I  considered  not  what  you 
might  feel  —  that  a  week  might  turn  your  fancy 
into  love,  and  make  our  parting  as  cruel  for  you  as 
for  me.  Forgive  me,  dearest,  and  charge  the  sin 
to  my  love  of  you  —  my  unthinking,  inconsiderate 
love!" 

"  Nay,  dear,  there  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she 
said,  with  sorrowful  compassion.  "  Parting  will 
be  hard  —  heaven  knows  it  will !  —  but  I  must  set 
my  thoughts  on  our  next  meeting.  The  separation 
will  be  —  somewhat  long,  do  you  say?  —  ah,  that's 
sad  to  hear.  How  long,  Everell  ?  " 

He  turned  his  face  from  her. 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"Speak,  Everell,"  she  pleaded;  "how  long?  — 
a  year  ?  " 

"  Longer  than  that,"  he  whispered. 

"  Longer !  —  oh,  pity  me,  heaven !  " 

Besides  the  doors  at  either  end  of  this  dining- 
parlour,  to  the  library  and  the  hall,  there  was  at 
one  side  a  third,  which  led  to  the  drawing-room. 
This  door  now  opened,  and  Lady  Strange  appeared : 
seeing  the  lovers,  she  closed  it  gently  behind  her. 
They  stood  clinging  to  each  other,  with  looks  sor- 
rowful and  distraught. 

"  You  have  told  her,  then?"  she  said,  in  a  tone 
softened  by  compassion. 

"  Almost,"  replied  Everell ;  and  Georgiana  began 
to  sob. 

"  My  poor  child,"  said  Lady  Strange,  "  from  my 
heart  I  grieve  for  you.  Sir,  we  are  all  much  to 
blame.  Had  we  foreseen  this  a  week  ago !  —  Would 
that  this  week  could  be  recalled,  for  the  sake  of 
this  child's  happiness!  I  have  pleaded  with  Fox- 
well;  but  he  is  determined  to  deliver  you  up." 

"  What !  —  deliver  —  "  Georgiana  became  for 
a  moment  speechless;  then  uttered  a  scream,  and 
was  like  to  have  fallen  to  the  floor,  had  not  Everell 
grasped  her  more  tightly  in  his  arms. 

"  Heaven  pity  her !  —  my  dear  love !  " 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Why,  then  —  did  she  not  know  ?  "  cried  Lady 
Strange. 

"  Not  the  whole  truth  —  only  that  I  was  going 
away." 

He  was  about  to  carry  Georgiana  to  a  chair,  but 
she  suddenly  regained  her  strength. 

"  Deliver  you  up !  "  she  said,  excitedly.  "  My 
uncle  shall  not !  You  shall  put  it  out  of  his  power ! 
Escape  now,  while  you  may !  Go  —  we'll  meet 
again."  She  essayed  to  push  him  toward  the  hall, 
keeping  her  glance  the  while  on  the  drawing-room 
door  by  which  her  uncle  might  enter. 

"  I  cannot,"  said  Everell.  "  I've  given  him  my 
word  —  'twas  to  purchase  this  week  of  love,  sweet." 

"  Your  word !  He  shall  not  claim  it  of  you ! 
Your  word !  —  oh,  heaven  help  me,  you  would  keep 
your  word  though  it  broke  my  heart !  —  honour, 
you  call  it !  —  'tis  men's  madness,  women  are  no 
such  fools !  —  Nay,  forgive  me,  I  would  not  love 
you  else.  But  he  shall  not  hold  you  to  your  word. 
He  shall  not  deliver  you  up.  He  shall  release  you." 
She  broke  from  Everell's  clasp,  and  flung  open  the 
drawing-room  door,  calling,  "Uncle!  Uncle!" 

Foxwell  appeared,  with  some  playing  cards  in 
his  hand.  He  was  slightly  pallid,  and  wore  the 
frown  of  one  to  whom  has  fallen  a  vexation  he  has 
dreaded. 

243 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Uncle,  you  will  not  deliver  him  up  ?  You  will 
release  him  from  his  word?  You  will  let  him  go 
free,  will  you  not?  'Tis  no  gain  to  you  that  he 
should  die.  Speak !  —  uncle,  tell  me  you'll  not  de- 
liver him  up." 

"  My  child,  you  do  not  understand  these  mat- 
ters," replied  Foxwell,  patiently  resorting  to  a  judi- 
cial softness  of  speech.  "  Mr.  Everell  himself,  as 
a  soldier,  who  assumed  the  chance  of  war  and  lost, 
knows  what  my  duty  is  —  knows  I  once  even  of- 
fered to  forget  that  duty,  had  he  but  accepted  the 
condition." 

"  Certainly  I  have  but  myself  to  blame,"  said 
Everell.  "  For  myself  I  make  no  complaint.  For 
her,  alas !  my  heart  bleeds.  I  can  but  pray  she  will 
soon  forget." 

"  Forget !  "  cried  Georgiana.  "  Indeed,  no !  I 
say  you  shall  not  die,  Everell.  Uncle,  I  beg  you, 
on  my  knees  —  his  life!  Sure  you  can't  be  my 
kinsman  and  refuse  —  you  can't  be  a  sharer  of  the 
same  blood  as  flows  in  me,  and  be  so  cruel.  An- 
swer me,  uncle !  —  you  will  spare  him,  will  not 
you?  You  say  you  once  offered  to  forget  your 
duty:  if  you  could  forget  it  once,  you  can  again, 
cannot  you  ?  " 

"  Nay,  'tis  not  possible  now,  niece;  circumstances 
have  altered.  'Twould  be  useless  for  me  to  explain. 

£44 


"'UNCLE,    I    BEG    YOU,  ON    MY    KNEES  —  HIS   LIFE!'" 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

I  can  only  beg  you  to  end  this  supplication,  Georgi- 
ana,  —  it  will  not  serve  you.  I  am  not  to  be  moved. 
Mr.  Everell  will  say  whether  I  have  dealt  fairly 
with  him  —  would  have  dealt  more  than  fairly,  had 
he  but  willed.  "Tis  all  vastly  to  be  regretted.  Had 
he  chosen  so  a  week  since,  your  sorrow  had  been 
much  less.  Had  you  bestowed  your  confidence 
upon  me  when  he  first  came  here,  you  might  have 
been  spared  all  sorrow.  As  it  is,  events  must  take 
their  course." 

"  Oh,  my  God,  can  one's  own  kin  be  so  heartless  ? 
To  send  him  to  death,  who  is  more  than  life  to  me ! 
What  has  he  done?  —  what  injury  to  you?  He 
only  fought  for  the  prince  in  whose  right  he  be- 
lieved. Had  his  side  won,  he  would  have  been 
merciful.  What  harm  will  it  do  you  to  let  him  go? 
—  what  harm  to  the  kingdom,  now  the  rebellion 
is  put  down?  'Tis  profitless,  'tis  needless,  'twill 
serve  nothing,  that  he  should  die.  —  Oh,  heaven, 
soften  my  uncle's  heart !  —  let  him  see  as  I  see, 
feel  as  I  feel!" 

Foxwell,  little  relishing  these  vehement  appeals, 
or  the  sight  of  the  kneeling  girl  with  supplicating 
hands,  turned  to  Everell: 

"  Sir,  this  can  accomplish  nothing.  I  will  leave 
you  with  her  till  the  appointed  time  —  though  per- 
haps it  were  more  kind  to  — " 

245 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Georgiana,  grasping  her  uncle's 
coat-skirt  as  he  made  to  step  back  into  the  drawing- 
room.  "  Do  not  go !  —  uncle,  hear  me !  Anything 
for  his  life!  —  only  his  life!  I  will  do  anything, 
give  anything  —  only  that  he  may  not  die! " 

Foxwell  looked  down  at  her.  The  birth  of  a 
thought  showed  on  his  face,  clearing  away  his 
frown  of  annoyance.  Again  he  turned  to  Everell, 
and  said,  quietly: 

"  Sir,  will  you  grant  me  a  few  minutes  alone  with 
my  niece?  The  time  shall  be  made  up  after,  if  you 
choose." 

Everell  stood  hesitating. 

"Go,  Everell,"  said  Georgiana,  eagerly;  "'tis 
for  our  advantage." 

"I  pray  it  may  be  for  yours,  sweet,"  replied 
Everell,  gently,  and  went  into  the  library,  closing 
the  door  after  him. 

Lady  Strange,  conceiving  herself  not  wanted, 
would  have  passed  Foxwell  to  retire  to  the  drawing- 
room;  but  he  softly  closed  that  door,  and  said: 

"  Nay,  Lady  Strange,  don't  go.  I  had  as  lief 
you  heard  this.  Georgiana,  you  ask  for  this  gentle- 
man's life :  now  if  that  were  all  —  "  He  paused 
for  effect. 

"  All!  "  echoed  Georgiana,  now  risen  to  her  feet; 


246 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  'tis  everything !  I  ask  no  more.  You  will  grant 
it,  then?  —  you  will  make  me  happy?" 

"If  you  would  indeed  be  content  with  that  — 
and  his  freedom  —  "  Foxwell  still  seemed  to  halt 
in  doubt. 

"  I  will  be,"  Georgiana  declared,  emphatically ; 
"  only  say  he  shall  live." 

"  If  you  would  abandon  any  dreams  you  may 
have  entertained  of  marriage  —  of  future  meetings 
with  him  —  of  correspondence,  in  the  event  of  my 
saving  him  from  the  gallows  —  " 

"  I  will  abandon  whatever  you  require,  —  only 
to  know  that  he  goes  free,  only  to  feel  that  some- 
where in  the  world  he  lives !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Foxwell,  slowly,  "  I  will  let  him 
go  free  —  " 

Georgiana  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  —  if,"  continued  Foxwell,  "  you  will  accept  the 
proposal  —  the  very  advantageous  proposal  — 
which  Mr.  Thornby  has  done  you  the  honour  of 
making." 

"Accept  the  proposal  —  of  Mr.  Thornby?"  re- 
peated Georgiana,  in  utter  surprise. 

"  Yes  —  give  your  consent  to  the  marriage,  of 
your  own  free  will,  letting  it  be  clear  that  there 
has  been  no  force  or  compulsion  to  influence  you." 

"  But,"  Georgiana  faltered,  looking  distressedly 
247 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

toward  the  door  by  which  Everell  had  left  the 
room,  "  I  cannot  love  Mr.  Thornby." 

"  'Tis  not  absolutely  necessary  you  should  love 
him,"  replied  Foxwell,  dryly. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  "  cried  Georgiana,  as  her  imagina- 
tion fully  mastered  the  case.  "  I  cannot !  'Twould 
be  like  —  'twould  be  horrible!" 

"  'Twould  be  saving  your  Everell's  life,"  said 
Foxwell,  dispassionately. 

"  'Tis  an  excellent  match,  dear,"  put  in  Lady 
Strange,  softly,  "  if  Mr.  Thornby's  estate  is  what 
I  take  it  to  be." 

"  Oh,  but,  Lady  Strange,  —  you  are  a  woman  — 
you  should  understand." 

"  I  do,  child,"  replied  the  elder  lady,  with  an 
inward  sigh,  "  but  —  these  matters  reconcile  them- 
selves in  time.  'Twill  not  be  so  intolerable,  believe 
me.  And  who  knows  —  "  Whatever  it  was  that 
who  knew,  Lady  Strange  abruptly  broke  off  to 
another  line  of  thought.  "  The  point  is,  to  save 
your  lover's  life,  my  dear." 

"  Ay,"  said  Foxwell,  beginning  to  show  impa- 
tience, "  ere  the  opportunity  is  gone.  Now  lookye, 
Georgiana,  I  must  hear  your  answer  without  more 
ado.  I  am  going  to  have  a  horse  saddled  at  once. 
It  shall  carry  either  your  acceptance  to  Mr. 
Thornby,  or  word  of  this  rebel  to  those  who  will 

248 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

not  be  slow  in  securing  him.  "Pis  for  you  to  say 
which,  and  before  many  minutes." 

Instead  of  calling  a  servant,  Foxwell  went  out  to 
the  hall  to  give  the  order,  consigning  Georgiana 
by  a  look  to  the  persuasions  of  Lady  Strange. 

"  Come,  my  dear,"  said  that  lady,  bending  kindly 
over  Georgiana,  who  had  sunk  weeping  into  a  chair 
by  the  table ;  "  'tis  but  marrying  him  you  love  not, 
for  the  sake  of  him  you  love." 

"  'Tis  being  false  to  him  I  love,"  sobbed  the  girl. 

"  False  to  him,  but  to  save  his  life  —  a  loyal 
kind  of  falseness,  poor  child ! " 

She  continued  in  this  strain,  though  with  no 
apparent  effect  upon  Georgiana,  who  presently  flung 
her  arms  upon  the  table  and,  bowing  her  head  upon 
them,  shook  with  weeping.  In  this  attitude  her 
uncle  found  her  when  he  returned  from  ordering 
the  horse. 

"  Nay,  persuade  her  no  more,  Lady  Strange," 
said  he,  testily.  "  God's  name,  miss !  —  be  true  to 
your  lover,  if  you  think  it  so,  and  send  him  to  die 
for  your  truth.  I  am  going  now  to  write  a  line 
for  my  messenger  to  carry.  It  might  have  been  a 
line  to  Thornby,  accompanied  by  a  few  words  of 
your  own  inditing.  But,  as  it  cannot  be  so,  it  must 
be  to  those  who  want  news  of  the  rebel."  With 
that,  Foxwell  was  about  to  go  to  the  drawing-room. 

249 


•THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  No,  no !  "  exclaimed  Georgiana,  rising  to  stop 
him.  "  I  will  consent  —  I  will  save  the  rebel. 
False  to  him,  for  love  of  him !  —  he  will  under- 
stand." 

"  Nay,  but  he  is  not  to  understand,"  objected 
Foxwell.  "  He  is  to  know  nothing  of  this.  Do 
you  not  see,  he  might  rather  give  himself  up  than 
have  you  marry  another?  —  might  refuse  to  be 
saved  by  such  means.  For  his  own  sake,  he  mustn't 
know  the  condition.  You  had  best  not  see  him 
again :  leave  me  to  dismiss  him.  I  make  no  doi"bt 
he  will  accept  his  liberty  now  for  your  sake,  and 
agree  to  the  voiding  of  our  compact,  whereof  he 
has  had  near  the  full  benefit.  Best  not  see  him: 
you  might  betray  all." 

"  Not  see  him !  "  wept  Georgiana. 

"  Tis  best  not.  If  he  stand  to  our  agreement 
and  demand  to  see  you,  why,  then,  so  it  must  be, 
and  I  know  not  what  will  ensue.  Do  not  fear  I 
shall  misrepresent  you  to  him.  He  shall  know 
you  have  won  his  life  by  your  pleading,  upon  con- 
dition he  goes  away  forthwith  —  that  is  all.  'Tic 
agreed  to,  then  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Georgiana,  faintly;  and  added  as 
if  speaking  to  herself,  "  I  shall  know  that  some- 
where he  lives !  " 

At  this  instant  the  door  from  the  library  opened, 
250 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

whereupon  Foxwell  looked  around  sharply,  think- 
ing Everell  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  reappear 
unbidden.  But  the  intruder  proved  to  be  the  wait- 
ing-woman Prudence,  who  had  fallen  asleep  over 
her  sewing  while  Georgiana  was  reading  to  Everell, 
and  whom  the  lovers  had  left  unnoticed  in  her 
corner.  Having  just  now  wakened,  and  seen  Ever- 
ell alone  before  the  fireplace,  looking  strangely  pale 
and  excited,  she  had  come  forth  in  quest  of  her 
mistress.  In  obedience  to  Foxwell's  imperious  mo- 
tion, she  shut  the  door,  and  hastened  to  the  half- 
swooning  niece. 

"  Then,"  said  Foxwell  to  Georgiana,  "  I  beg  you 
will  go  to  your  room  and  write  a  brief  letter  to 
Mr.  Thornby,  informing  him  you  accept  his  pro- 
posal of  marriage,  conditionally  upon  such  terms 
as  your  representative  —  and  so  forth.  Lady 
Strange  will  perhaps  be  so  kind  as  to  advise  you 
in  the  wording  —  the  form  matters  little,  only  let 
it  be  plain  you  act  of  your  free  will." 

"  Of  my  free  will  —  yes,"  murmured  Georgiana, 
wearily,  accepting  the  guidance  of  Lady  Strange's 
hand. 

"  When  the  letter  is  finished,  send  it  down  to 
me  straightway;  and  best  keep  to  your  room  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening,"  added  Foxwell,  as  Lady 
Strange  and  the  girl  passed  out  to  the  hall. 

251 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

Prudence  followed  them  up  the  stairs,  but  stopped 
for  a  moment  outside  Georgiana's  anteroom,  to 
give  oral  expression  to  her  feelings :  "  Marry  Mr. 
Thornby!  Oh,  lor!  What  will  the  Jacumbite  say 
to  this,  I  wonder  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

SURPRISES 

LEFT  alone  in  the  dining-room,  Foxwell  first 
indulged  in  a  momentary  smile  of  satisfaction,  as 
who  should  say,  "  For  once  has  circumstance  been 
kind  to  me;  "  and  then,  setting  himself  to  the  task 
yet  remaining,  he  opened  the  library  door,  and 
called  Everell. 

The  young  man  came  without  delay;  looked 
swiftly  around  the  room,  and  then  at  Foxwell  with 
eyes  that  said,  "She  is  not  here!" 

"  She  has  gone  to  her  room,"  said  Foxwell,  very 
quietly.  "  I  have  granted  her  request :  you  are 
to  go  free/' 

"Go  free!" 

"  At  her  solicitation,  and  solely  for  her  sake. 
For  her  sake,  then,  and  for  mine,  too,  if  you  con- 
sider not  your  own,  I  beg  you  will  be  secret  in 
your  departure  —  and  above  all,  speedy.  You  must 
be  especially  on  your  guard  against  Jeremiah  Fil- 
son,  who  still  lodges  at  the  public-house  in  the  vil- 

253 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

lage  yonder.  Were  I  in  your  place,  I  wouldn't  pass 
through  the  village,  I  would  go  to  Burndale  and 
take  conveyance  there.  But  however  you  proceed, 
though  I  may  seem  inhospitable  to  urge  it,  you 
should  set  out  immediately.  You  have  money,  I 
believe:  if  not,  my  purse  —  though  I  could  wish 
it  better  lined  —  " 

"  Nay,  a  thousand  thanks,  but  I  have  enough. 
As  to  this  release,  I  know  not  what  to  say :  I  never 
would  have  asked  it  —  " 

"  But  you  must  accept  it,  for  the  sake  of  her  who 
did  ask  it.  I  well  know  you  would  have  stood  to 
our  compact.  Stay  not  for  protestations  or  thanks : 
the  sooner  you  are  gone,  the  better  for  us  all." 

"  But  'tis  not  yet  ten  o'clock." 

"  Good  heaven,  sir,  does  it  not  follow  that  our 
agreement  is  annulled  by  your  release  if  you  accept 
it?  —  and  your  duty  to  her  leaves  you  no  choice 
but  to  accept.  Will  you  stand  upon  an  hour  or  two, 
when  you've  had  near  full  benefit  of  the  bargain 
for  nothing,  as  it  turns  out?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Everell,  with  humility. 
"  I  will  go  as  soon  as  I  have  said  farewell  to 
her." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  that  very  ordeal  is  one  you 
must  spare  her.  Do  you  not  see  how  the  case 
stands?  She  was  in  great  terror  lest  you  should 

254 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

be  given  up :  relieved  upon  that  point,  she  asks 
no  more.  She  is  content  with  having  gained  your 
life :  in  that  mood,  she  is  willing  to  forego  another 
meeting.  It  would  only  start  her  grief  afresh :  for 
that  reason,  I  advised  her  to  go  to  her  room.  As 
you  value  her  peace,  you  must  depart  without  see- 
ing her." 

"Depart  without  seeing  her!"  Everell  looked 
wistfully  toward  the  hall,  through  which  she  must 
have  passed  to  reach  her  apartments.  He  fetched 
a  long  and  tremulous  sigh;  then  bethought  him 
of  the  miniature,  and,  taking  it  out,  stood  gazing 
on  it  with  moist  eyes.  He  gently  kissed  it,  and 
replaced  it  in  his  pocket.  "  Well,  sir,  heaven  knows 
I  wouldn't  cause  her  fresh  grief.  But  this  I  may 
ask  —  nay,  must  know  :  —  when  shall  I  be  per- 
mitted to  see  her  again  ?  " 

"  'Tis  not  in  my  power  to  answer,  your  own 
future  being  unknown  to  me.  Certainly  you  mustn't 
see  her  during  your  present  stay  in  England  — 
which,  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  devote  entirely  to 
getting  out  of  England.  As  to  the  future  more 
distant,  all  depends  upon  how  matters  shape  them- 
selves." 

"  At  least,  then,  I  may  hope !  She  will  be  true, 
I  know.  There  will  be  an  amnesty  some  day,  and 
I  may  return  to  England  without  danger.  In  the 

255 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

meantime,  you  —  and  she  —  may  be  coming  to 
France.  I  will  write  to  her  from  there." 

"  And  not  till  you  have  arrived  there,  I  trust. 
Until  your  safety  is  assured,  any  communication 
from  you  must  give  a  new  edge  to  her  anxiety. 
But  I  demand  no  promises."  Foxwell  intended  to 
expedite  the  marriage:  once  his  purposes  were 
secured,  Georgiana's  conduct  would  be  Thornby's 
affair.  Now  that  her  consent  had  been  obtained, 
haste  was  possible.  Meanwhile,  he  could  intercept 
any  letter  that  came  by  regular  post.  Therefore, 
'twas  better  not  to  force  Bverell  to  secret  means 
of  correspondence. 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  Everell,  with  a  wan  attempt  at 
a  smile,  "  as  you  demand  no  promises,  I  will  make 
none.  On  the  hope  of  meeting  her  again,  in  safer 
times,  I  shall  live.  In  that  hope,  I  must  go.  Tell 
her  — "  he  paused  a  moment,  but  his  thoughts 
were  in  a  tumult  —  "  Nay,  words  are  too  feeble ! 
I  thank  her,  not  for  my  life,  which  is  hers  to  use 
as  she  will ;  but  for  her  love,  which  gives  my  life  all 
its  value.  Adieu,  sir !  —  no  more !  " 

With  that,  he  hastened  abruptly,  half-blindly,  to 
the  hall;  and  thence  to  his  chamber,  where  he 
donned  his  sword,  hat,  cloak,  and  riding-boots.  He 
threw  his  few  other  belongings  into  the  bag,  made 
sure  his  money  was  safe  in  pocket,  and  returned  to 

256 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  hall,  thinking  to  leave  by  way  of  the  courtyard 
and  thus  soonest  gain  the  road.  There  was  the 
darkness  for  his  safety,  and  the  whirl  of  his 
thoughts  to  speed  him  on  to  Burndale,  where  he 
could  knock  up  some  innkeeper,  and  take  horse  for 
the  South  at  dawn. 

Caleb  and  another  servant,  charged  by  Foxwell 
to  attend  the  departing  guest  to  the  gate,  were  at 
the  door.  Everell  handed  each  a  coin,  and  the 
second  man  ran  ahead  to  open  the  gate.  Everell 
was  following  across  the  dark  courtyard,  when  he 
bethought  him  of  the  services  of  Prudence.  He 
turned  back  to  the  light  of  the  open  doorway,  se- 
lected a  gold  piece,  and  asked  Caleb  to  convey  it 
to  the  maid. 

"  If  it  please  your  Honour,  sir,  asking  your  par- 
don, may  I  call  Miss  Prudence  to  receive  it  her- 
self?" said  Caleb;  "'twill  take  but  a  minute." 

Perceiving  that  the  valet  was  averse  to  the  trust, 
Everell  acquiesced.  The  idea  then  came  to  him 
that  he  might  utilize  the  brief  delay  by  writing  a 
message  of  farewell  to  Georgiana:  there  could  be 
no  objection  to  a  few  written  words  of  love  and 
faith,  which  Prudence  might  deliver  at  a  suitable 
time.  Everell  strode  into  the  dining-room. 

Nobody  else  was  there,  for  Foxwell  had  returned 
to  the  drawing-room  to  pen  a  letter  which  should 

257 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

accompany  Georgiana's  to  Thornby.  He  had  begun 
to  apologize  to  Rashleigh  and  Mrs.  Winter  for  the 
long  trial  he  had  put  upon  their  patience. 

"  You  might  at  least  have  left  the  door  ajar, 
that  we  could  have  heard  your  fine  scenes  yonder," 
said  Mrs.  Winter. 

"  So  I  might  have  done,  I  own,"  replied  Foxwell. 

"  Yes ;  as  you  didn't,  we  thought  ourselves 
justified  in  listening  at  the  keyhole." 

"  We  ?  "  exclaimed  Rashleigh,  in  protest. 

"  Well,  if  you  didn't  listen,  Rashleigh,  you  cer- 
tainly didn't  stop  my  telling  you  what  I  heard." 

"  Then  you  know  what  has  happened  ?  "  queried 
Foxwell. 

"  I  could  make  a  good  guess  at  the  general 
event,"  answered  the  lady.  "  The  rebel  goes  free, 
and  pretty  Georgiana  marries  for  love." 

"  For  love !  "  said  Foxwell.    "  Hardly  so,  I  fear." 

"  Certainly.  For  love  of  one  man,  she  marries 
another.  'Tis  often  done  —  especially  in  France. 
'Tis  a  plan  that  has  its  beauties." 

"  I'm  afraid  Georgiana  is  too  English  to  see  its 
beauties,"  said  Rashleigh,  as  Foxwell  sat  down  to 
write  his  letter. 

Return  we  to  another  writer,  in  the  adjoining 
room.  Everell  had  found  the  book  from  which 
Georgiana  had  been  reading  to  him,  which  he  had 

258 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

dropped  in  going  to  support  her  when  she  seemed 
about  to  faint.  He  had  scarce  begun  to  pencil  his 
message  on  a  blank  leaf,  when  Prudence  looked  in 
at  the  door. 

"  Oh,  'tis  here  your  honour  is,  sir ;  and  sure 
I'm  sorry  you're  going  away  so  suddent,"  she  said, 
advancing.  "  When  Caleb  told  me  just  now,  I 
couldn't  believe  my  ears,  and  I  wouldn't  yet,  neither, 
if  I  didn't  see  your  cloak  and  bag,  more's  the 
pity." 

"  Yes,  I  am  going,"  said  Everell,  handing  her 
the  reward  of  merit. 

"  Oli  lor,  sir,  what  princely  generosity !  I'm 
sure  I  aren't  no  ways  deserving  of  such !  It  reely 
breaks  my  heart,  begging  your  Honour's  pardon, 
to  see  how  things  have  come  about.  After  all  that's 
took  place  this  past  week,  to  hear  of  this  marriage 
—  'tis  enough  to  make  one  think  of  witchcraft  —  " 

"This  marriage?     What  marriage?  —  whose?" 

"  Why,  this  here  marriage,  in  course.  Bean't 
that  what  sends  your  Honour  away  all  of  a  suddent 
at  such  a  time  o'  night  ?  " 

"Whose  marriage?  Speak,  Prudence!  —  in  a 
word,  whose?  " 

"  Why,  mistress's  marriage,  to  be  sure.  Whose 
else  in  the  world  —  " 

"  Mistress's  mar — !    What  mistress  ?  " 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Mistress  Georgiana  Foxwell,  in  course :  I  don't 
own  to  no  other  mistress,  I'm  sure."  The  maid 
drew  back  from  Bverell,  wondering  if  the  loss  of 
his  sweetheart  had  affected  his  wits. 

"  Mistress  Georgiana!  Are  you  mad,  Prudence? 
What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Mad,  sir?  Not  me!  I  scorn  the  word.  'Tis 
my  betters  I  takes  to  be  mad,  to  go  and  make  a 
match  of  it  with  a  gentleman  she's  scarce  set  eyes 
on,  be  he  ever  so  rich." 

"What  gentleman  do  you  speak  of?  Truly  I 
think  you  are  mad." 

"  I'm  a-speaking  of  Squire  Thornby,  sir,  who 
but  he?  Sure  then,  haven't  they  told  your  Hon- 
our?" 

"Squire  Thornby?"  repeated  Everell,  with  but 
vague  recollection  of  the  little  he  had  heard  of  that 
person.  "  A  neighbour  of  Mr.  Foxwell's,  isn't 
he?" 

"  Yes,  with  a  large  estate,  I've  heard  say.  'Tis 
all  I  know  of  him,  barring  they've  arranged  he  shall 
marry  my  mistress;  though  that's  quite  enough, 
heavens  knows,  and  you  could  have  knocked  me 
down  with  a  feather  when  I  heard  as  much." 

"But  'tis  impossible!  They  little  know  her:  let 
them  arrange  as  they  will,  she  will  never  con- 
sent" 

260 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Indeed,  sir,  but  that's  the  strangest  part  of  it ; 
for  didn't  I  hear  her  consent  in  this  very  room, 
with  these  ears,  not  ten  minutes  ago  ?  '  Excep' 
Squire  Thornby's  proposal  of  marriage,'  them  was 
her  uncle's  words,  and  she  said  yes,  and  Lady 
Strange  is  with  her  now,  a-tellin'  how  adventidjus 
a  match  'twill  be.  And  if  you  think  a  poor  waiting- 
woman's  word  can't  be  took,  you're  free  to  go  and 
ask  for  yourself." 

"  Marry  Squire  Thornby !  —  after  all  that  has 
passed  —  her  grief  at  my  going  —  her  appeal  for 
my  life!  It  can't  be;  I'll  not  believe  it,  unless  she 
tells  me." 

He  went  swiftly  from  the  room,  and  ran  up  the 
stairs.  Before  he  had  time  to  reflect  upon  the  im- 
pulse he  obeyed,  he  was  on  the  landing  outside  her 
antechamber,  calling  through  the  closed  door: 

"  Georgiana !  —  my  love !  Come  and  deny  this 
slander !  Come,  let  me  hear  the  truth !  " 

The  door  opened,  and  Georgiana  appeared,  pale 
and  sorrow-stricken.  Lady  Strange  was  at  her  side, 
with  a  gently  restraining  touch  upon  her  arm.  But 
Everell  seized  the  girl's  hand  and  led  her  down  the 
stairs,  partly  as  if  he  claimed  her  from  any  other's 
possession,  and  partly  that  he  might  see  her  face 
in  the  better  light  of  the  hall  below.  "  Sweet,  what 
blundering  tale  is  this  ? "  he  asked,  as  they  de- 

£61 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

scended ;  —  "of  a  marriage  with  Squire  Thornby, 
and  that  you  have  given  your  consent  ?  " 

Georgiana  was  silent,  with  averted  glance. 

"Why  don't  you  answer?"  he  said,  as  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  but  could  not  bring 
her  lips  to  frame  a  word. 

"What!"  he  exclaimed;  "'tis  true,  then? 
Oh!" 

His  cry  was  like  that  of  sharp  pain;  he  dropped 
her  hand,  and  walked  a  few  steps  from  her.  "  Who 
would  have  believed  it?"  he  said,  plaintively;  "I 
would  have  staked  my  soul  upon  it  that  you  loved 
me." 

"  Loved  you ! "  she  said,  in  a  faint  whisper. 

"  But  what  can  it  mean,  then  ? "  he  asked, 
touched  alike  by  her  words  and  her  look.  "  Surely 
you  don't  put  wealth  and  convenience  before  love? 
Do  you  fear  I  may  never  come  back  to  you?  And 
to  give  your  consent  at  such  a  time  —  but  ten  min- 
utes ago,  the  maid  says!  Why,  you  had  just  been 
pleading  for  my  life.  —  Ah !  now  I  understand !  — 
blind  fool  that  I've  been,  not  to  see  at  once!  for- 
give me,  dearest  love!  Tis  your  uncle's  doing: 
he  has  sold  you  my  life  for  your  consent  to  the 
marriage !  "  With  that,  Everell  grasped  her  hand, 
and  started  toward  the  dining-room. 

262 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Hush,  Everell !  "  said  Georgiana,  fearful  lest 
all  might  be  undone ;  "  go,  for  heaven's  sake,  for 
my  sake,  ere  it  be  too  late !  " 

Fortunately  Caleb  had  stepped  out  to  the  court- 
yard to  gossip  with  his  fellow  servant  who  had 
opened  the  gate,  and,  as  the  house  door  was  but 
slightly  ajar,  there  were  no  witnesses  to  what  was 
passing  in  the  hall,  save  Lady  Strange  and  Pru- 
dence, who  had  both  followed  down  the  stairs. 
Holding  back  from  the  dining-room  door,  Georgi- 
ana  still  begged  Everell  to  go. 

"Go,  on  those  terms?"  he  said.  "Not  I! 
Rather  die  the  worst  of  deaths.  Let  you  marry 
another?  I'll  give  myself  up  first!" 

"  Nay,  Everell  —  my  love  —  I  implore  —  on  my 
knees!  Must  I  plead  with  you  as  I  pleaded 
with  my  uncle?  You  should  know  I  cannot  en- 
dure the  thought  of  your  death.  Only  that  you 
live,  that  is  enough !  Go,  I  beseech !  —  let  not  my 
sacrifice  be  in  vain." 

"  You  sha'n't  make  the  sacrifice,"  he  said,  fiercely. 

"  'Tis  made  already :  my  uncle  has  my  prom- 
ise." 

"Your  uncle!  —  where  is  he?"  And  Everell 
strode  into  the  dining-room,  followed  by  the  three 
women.  Before  he  had  time  to  reach  the  drawing- 
room  door,  it  was  opened  from  the  other  side,  and 

263 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

Everell  had  no  farther  to  go  to  meet  Foxwell,  who 
had  heard  the  young  man's  loud-spoken  words.  At 
sight  of  Georgiana,  her  uncle  made  an  ejaculation, 
and  advanced  toward  Everell  with  a  resentful  look : 
he  held  in  one  hand  a  pen,  in  the  other  the  letter 
which  the  sound  of  Everell's  voice  had  interrupted ; 
and  this  time  both  Mrs.  Winter  and  Rashleigh  took 
the  liberty  of  intruding  upon  the  scene. 

"  Ah,  you  come  in  good  time !  "  cried  Everell. 
"  I  refuse  my  liberty  at  the  price  you  set.  She  shall 
not  marry  another  to  save  me." 

"  'Tis  too  late,  sir,"  said  Foxwell,  with  forced 
quietness ;  "  she  has  already  bound  herself  by  her 
promise." 

"  Then  give  her  back  her  promise,  as  I  give 
myself  back  to  you !  " 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  have  no  part  in  the  cov- 
enant: 'tis  between  my  niece  and  myself  —  your 
liberty  for  her  promise.  Even  were  she  inclined  to 
cancel  the  agreement,  she  cannot  do  so  now :  I  have 
given  your  liberty,  have  performed  my  part:  she 
is  bound  by  her  promise." 

"  You  see  'tis  too  late,  Everell,"  said  Georgiana, 
in  whom  every  other  feeling  yielded  to  anxiety  for 
his  safety ;  "  you  cannot  mend  matters  now.  Save 
yourself  —  at  least  that !  —  for  my  sake !  " 

For  a  moment  her  lover  was  thoughtful.  He 
264 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

threw  back  his  cloak  at  both  shoulders,  so  that  it 
hung  behind  him.  To  enforce  her  plea,  Georgiana 
laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm:  she  stepped  forward 
so  that  she  now  stood  beside  him. 

"  But  7  am  not  bound  by  her  promise,"  said 
Everell  to  Foxwell. 

"  You  are  no  longer  bound  by  anything,  sir,  to 
me,"  Foxwell  replied.  "  If  you  insist  upon  stay- 
ing in  this  neighbourhood,  'tis  at  your  own  peril. 
And  I  warrant  you  'twill  avail  nothing :  I  shall  see 
that  my  niece  neither  leaves  her  apartments,  nor 
communicates  with  any  one  outside  them,  until  her 
marriage;  you  force  me  to  that  use  of  my  author- 
ity." 

Before  Everell  could  answer,  a  voice  was  heard 
in  the  hall  doorway  behind  him  —  Caleb's  voice,  ad- 
dressed to  Foxwell :  "  Please,  your  Honour,  Joseph 
has  the  horse  ready,  sir." 

The  word  "  horse  "  shot  through  the  confusion 
of  Everell's  thoughts. 

"  Tell  Joseph  to  wait,"  said  Foxwell,  glancing 
at  the  unfinished  letter  in  his  hand.  Everell  heard 
Caleb  walk  away  through  the  hall  to  the  house 
door.  He  knew  there  was  a  mounting-block  at  the 
side  of  that  door:  would  Joseph  let  the  horse  wait 
there,  or  walk  it  up  and  down  the  courtyard? 
"  And  now  again,  Mr.  Everell,"  resumed  Foxwell, 

265 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  I  bid  you  farewell ;  and  I  beg  that  this  leave- 
taking  may  be  final." 

Everell  drew  a  deep  breath ;  then  replied :  "  I 
am  willing  it  shall  be  final,  sir.  But  one  word 
before  I  go.  I  have  pondered  what  you  have  said : 
'tis  clear  I  am  no  longer  bound  to  you  by  any  ob- 
ligation: as  for  your  niece,  I  am  not  bound  by 
her  promise." 

"  I  grant  you,"  replied  Foxwell,  "  'tis  for  her 
alone  to  keep  that." 

"  But  if  I  should  prevent  her  keeping  it  ?  " 

"  'Tis  not  possible ;  or,  if  so,  not  to  a  man  of 
honour." 

"Why  not,  pray?  I  am  answerable  only  for 
my  own  promises.  She  is  bound  by  hers,  and  will 
keep  it  —  if  she  can.  But  if  I  prevent  her,  by  force, 
she'll  not  be  to  blame  for  that.  There  will  be  no 
breach  of  honour  then." 

"  I  must  end  this,  sir.  —  To  cross  another's 
promise  is  no  better  than  to  break  one's  own  —  " 

"  Not  in  this  case,  sir,"  replied  Everell,  his  voice 
rising  in  spite  of  himself,  as  his  heart  rose  to  the 
wild  attempt  he  was  about  to  make  —  rashness  had 
brought  him  to  this  pass,  let  rashness  bring  him 
out !  —  "  not  in  this  case,  for  the  promise  concerns 
me,  yet  I  was  not  consulted  in  its  making  —  there's 
reason  for  you!  As  for  possibility,  let's  put  it  to 

266 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

the  test!  Prevent  her?  Yes!"  He  had  half- 
drawn  his  sword,  but  he  quickly  slid  it  back;  flung 
his  arms  around  Georgiana's  waist,  and,  lifting  her 
high,  made  a  dash  for  the  hall,  passing  between 
Lady  Strange  and  Prudence  on  the  way;  ran  on 
out  to  the  courtyard,  where,  by  a  lantern  in  Jo- 
seph's hand,  he  saw  the  horse  at  the  mounting- 
block;  thanks  to  which,  he  gained  the  saddle  in 
two  steps,  with  the  slight  form  of  Georgiana  still 
in  his  arms;  jerked  the  bridle  from  Joseph's  hold 
ere  the  groom  or  the  two  other  servants  knew  what 
was  happening;  applied  the  spurs,  and  was  off  at 
a  gallop  through  the  open  gateway  before  Foxwell 
had  got  as  far  as  to  the  house  door  in  pursuit. 

Foxwell  had  lost  no  more  time  through  sheer 
astonishment  than  most  men  would  have  lost.  But, 
as  he  started  to  go  after  Everell,  the  maid  Pru- 
dence also  started,  apparently  upon  the  impulse  of 
concern  for  her  mistress:  being  nearer  the  door- 
way, she  arrived  first;  tripped  at  the  threshold, 
and  dropped  on  all  fours,  filling  up  the  opening  so 
that  Foxwell  was  delayed  for  some  seconds  ere  he 
could  pass  to  the  hall.  He  had  hope  that  the  serv- 
ants about  the  house  door  would  stop  the  fugitive; 
but  they  were  taken  by  surprise,  they  knew  that 
Everell  was  to  leave,  and  they  did  not  know  for 
what  purpose  the  horse  had  been  got  ready.  So 

267 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

now  the  lover,  with  his  prize  in  his  arms,  was  gal- 
loping away  in  the  darkness.  Foxwell  ordered  two 
horses  saddled,  and  sent  Caleb  to  listen  as  to  which 
direction  the  fugitive  was  taking. 


268 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

ROADS 

FOR  the  first  few  moments,  Everell  left  matters  to 
the  horse,  merely  keeping  the  rein  in  hand  while  he 
adjusted  his  burden  so  that  Georgiana  might  be  as 
free  from  discomfort  as  necessity  allowed.  He 
dared  not  trust  to  placing  her  behind  him,  as  if  she 
had  been  a  consenting  partner  in  his  flight.  For 
the  time  being,  she  must  remain  prisoned  between 
his  arms.  He  worked  his  body  as  far  back  on  the 
horse  as  agreed  with  his  sure  control  of  the  animal, 
thus  giving  Georgiana  the  benefit  of  the  saddle: 
he  could  dispense  with  stirrups.  The  horse  plunged 
wildly  down  the  slope,  finding  the  unbarred  opening 
at  the  bottom  rather  by  its  own  sense  than  by 
Everell's  guidance. 

The  sky  was  black  with  clouds,  but  by  the  time  he 
had  thus  gained  the  road,  the  young  gentleman  had 
become  sufficiently  used  to  the  darkness  to  make 
out  something  of  his  way  ahead.  He  was  at  an 

269 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

instant's  hesitation  as  to  which  way  he  should  turn. 
Remembering  that  Foxwell  had  advised  him  to  go 
by  Burndale,  and  might  suppose  this  advice  taken, 
he  decided  for  the  other  —  in  itself  less  safe  — 
direction.  So  he  reined  his  steed  toward  the  village, 
as  was  presently  advertised  to  the  listening  Caleb 
by  the  thump  of  hoofs  on  the  bridge.  At  the  en- 
trance to  the  village,  there  was  again  choice  of  two 
wiays.  The  road  ahead,  passing  the  public-house, 
led  to  the  town  at  which  Everell  had  first  met 
Georgiana.  As  he  now  recalled,  it  passed  in  sight  of 
Thornby  Hall.  The  other  road,  turning  off  at  the 
right  and  skirting  the  churchyard,  eventually  arrived 
at  the  great  highway  for  London  some  miles  farther 
south  than  the  first  road :  so  the  ale-house  keeper 
had  told  Everell.  For  more  than  one  reason,  then, 
it  seemed  preferable.  The  ale-house  keeper  had  not 
mentioned,  however,  that  this  road  was  in  great 
part  little  used  and  much  neglected;  nor  did  it 
occur  to  Everell  at  the  moment  that  some  such 
consideration  must  have  made  the  Foxwells  use  the 
other  road  in  returning  from  the  South. 

The  young  man,  then,  turned  to  the  right,  and, 
passing  the  church,  quickly  left  the  village  behind. 
He  had  not  met  a  soul,  nor  heard  a  human  sound : 
doubtless  people  kept  within  doors  on  account  of 
the  nipping  air;  as  for  noise,  most  of  the  habitual 

270 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

producers  thereof  were  probably  at  the  ale-house. 
Presently  the  way  bent  to  the  left,  and  seemed  for 
awhile  to  run  nearly  parallel  to  the  other  road. 
Everell  felt  Georgiana  shiver  slightly  in  his  arms. 
He  stopped  his  horse,  and,  hearing  no  sound  as  of 
anybody  in  pursuit,  he  undid  his  cloak  and  con- 
trived to  wrap  it  around  her.  He  then  set  forward 
again,  though  at  a  less  mad  pace. 

In  all  this  time  Georgiana  had  not  uttered  a 
word;  nor  Everell  to  her,  his  only  exclamations 
having  been  addressed  to  the  horse.  What  were 
her  feelings  ?  We  know  that  she  was  being  carried 
away  by  force,  in  a  dress  certainly  not  designed  for 
travel  on  a  cold  and  dark  night,  and  without 
bag  or  baggage ;  carried  awlay  on  horseback,  with- 
out her  consent,  by  a  reckless  young  gentleman 
whose  neck  was  now  doubly  in  danger  —  nay,  trebly 
so,  for  at  that  time  abduction  and  horse-stealing 
were  both  hanging  matters,  no  less  than  treason; 
carried  away  by  sheer  strength  of  arm,  even  as 
any  Sabine  or  other  woman  who  ever  underwent 
the  experience  of  marriage  by  capture;  carried 
away  unceremoniously  and  suddenly  —  but  by  the 
man  she  loved!  Was  she  entirely  shocked,  indig- 
nant, and  terrified  ?  Let  us  leave  it  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  other  young  ladies  of  her  age  —  and  perhaps 
of  young  ladies  a  few  years  older.  Whatever 

271 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA    „ 

Georgiana's  feelings  may  have  been,  they  were  con- 
stantly mingled  with  the  questions,  "  What  next  ? 
Where  now?  What  is  he  going  to  do?  " 

Everell  was  proposing  to  himself  that  same  riddle. 
He  wondered  what  he  was  going  to  do.  For  the 
present,  the  only  thing  was  to  push  on.  Not  until 
a  considerable  distance  lay  between  him  and  Foxwell 
Court  would  he  dare  seek  shelter.  How  long  could 
Georgiana  endure  the  cold  and  fatigue?  How  long 
could  the  horse  travel  ?  No  doubt  a  stop  must  needs 
be  made  during  the  night,  at  some  village  inn  or 
farmhouse,  where  a  plausible  story  would  have  to 
be  told  in  order  to  account  for  their  situation  and  to 
obtain  admittance  —  a  story  of  the  lady  being 
robbed  and  left  for  dead  by  the  roadside,  and  found 
there  by  her  present  custodian;  or  some  such  tale. 
Would  Georgiana  deny  his  account,  and  seek  to 
frustrate  him,  as  in  honesty  she  ought  to  do?  He 
must  prevent  that  by  dire  threats,  must  enforce  her 
to  silence  upon  penalties  of  wholesale  disaster,  so 
that  she  must  feel  bound  by  every  womanly  fear, 
by  conscience  itself,  to  avert  the  greater  evil  of 
tragedy  to  all  concerned,  by  obeying  his  commands. 
She  must  be  in  terror  of  him,  and  of  the  conse- 
quences of  resisting  his  will.  If  he  frightened  and 
offended  her,  he  must  hope  to  make  his  peace  and 
atonement  later.  Would  she  really  need  such 

272 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

thorough  intimidation?  would  not  mere  formal 
compulsion  suffice  —  such  as  might  serve  as  a 
woman's  excuse  for  not  making  the  protest  that 
strict  duty  required?  He  could  not  be  sure,  and 
he  dared  not  ask  her :  he  resolved  to  take  no  risks ; 
she  should  have  ample  reason  to  feel  justified  in  non- 
resistance.  But  should  all  his  commands  and 
menaces  not  avail  ?  —  would  he  make  good  his 
threats  ?  He  knew  not :  so  far,  he  could  only  hope 
the  occasion  would  not  arise. 

So  much  for  his  course  with  regard  to  Georgiana's 
possible  opposition.  Wherever  they  should  stop,  he 
would  allow  her  no  chance  of  speaking  to  anybody 
out  of  his  presence :  when  she  slept,  not  even  a  maid 
should  have  access  to  her  room,  and  he  himself 
would  rest  outside  her  door,  with  the  key  in  his 
pocket.  At  the  first  town  they  should  enter  on  the 
morrow,  he  would  take  measures  to  supply  her  with 
the  necessaries  she  now  lacked;  he  would  have  to 
provide  a  few  things  for  himself  also,  for  he  had  left 
his  cloak-bag  at  Foxwell  Court.  At  the  same  town, 
he  would  abandon  the  horse,  and  hire  a  post-chaise 
for  the  continuance  of  their  journey.  His  ultimate 
aim  must  be,  to  reach  the  small  seaport  to  which 
Roughwood  had  gone  before  him,  and  thence  be 
conveyed  with  Georgiana  to  France.  Whether  cir- 
cumstances would  permit  him  to  make  her  his  wife 

273 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

on  their  Southward  journey,  he  could  not  know ;  if 
not,  the  ceremony  should  be  his  first  concern  upon 
setting  foot  in  France. 

So  the  future  took  general  form  in  his  thoughts 
as  he  rode.  But  meanwhile,  only  the  first  step  had 
been  made.  A  thousand  difficulties,  a  thousand 
dangers,  stood  in  the  way.  He  saw  himself  at 
the  beginning  of  a  long  and  toilsome  business,  which 
would  make  incessant  demands  upon  his  wit,  reso- 
lution, and  endurance.  He  could  allow  himself 
little  time  for  rest.  All  depended  upon  his  retaining 
the  start  he  had  gained;  upon  his  keeping  ever 
ahead  of  the  pursuit  that  would  be  made,  and  of 
the  news  wihich,  spreading  in  all  directions,  would 
follow  close  upon  his  heels.  He  now  thanked  his 
impulse  for  having  led  him  into  this  road.  If  Fox- 
well  had  set  out  as  soon  as  horse  could  be  saddled, 
he  must  lose  much  time  by  taking  the  wrong  road, 
which  Everell,  still  hearing  nothing  behind,  assumed 
that  he  would  surely  do. 

But  this  advantage,  if  it  really  existed,  might  be 
more  than  offset  ere  all  was  done.  A  sudden  sharp 
sense  of  this  caused  Everell  to  urge  the  horse  to  its 
former  pace.  The  animal  responded  readily  enough ; 
sped  most  gallantly  for  a  furlong  or  so;  then,  with- 
out any  warning,  stumbled  upon  its  knees,  almost 
throwing  the  riders.  It  rose  trembling,  and  started 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

to  go  on  —  but  with  a  limp  that  made  Everett's 
heart  sink  within  him. 

"  Curse  upon  the  bad  road !  The  horse  is  lamed 
—  hopelessly !  Poor  beast !  brave  fellow1,  he  would 
bear  us  still  in  spite  of  his  pain !  Well,  he  can  serve 
us  no  more  to-night!  There's  nothing  for  it  but 
going  afoot  till  I  can  get  another  mount." 

He  lifted  Georgiana  from  the  saddle,  threw  his 
leg  over  it,  and  slid  with  her  to  the  ground.  For 
a  few  moments  he  let  her  stand,  but  kept  one  arm 
around  her,  while  he  looked  up  and  down  the  road 
in  search  of  a  habitation.  But  the  darkness  baffled 
him.  He  remembered  having  passed  a  few  scat- 
tered cottages,  but  the  nearest  was  a  good  way 
back.  He  was  likely  to  find  a  house  sooner  by 
going  ahead,  which  seemed  on  other  accounts  the 
better  course.  As  for  the  poor  steed,  Everell  w-as 
first  of  a  mind  to  leave  it  to  its  will ;  but  he  feared 
it  might  thus  serve  to  inform  his  pursuers  of  his 
enforced  delay  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  cause 
more  particular  search  to  be  made  near  at  hand. 
Retaining  the  halter  in  his  grasp,  and  taking  up 
Georgiana  so  as  to  carry  her  as  one  carries  a  child 
in  long  clothes,  he  started  forward.  He  hoped  he 
might  discover  a  house  before  the  young  lady's 
weight  became  too  much  for  him;  in  other  case, 
he  must  subject  her  lightly  shod  feet  to  contact 

275 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

with  the  rough  road.  Fortunately,  he  soon  beheld 
a  light,  which  by  its  steadiness  and  position  he 
judged  to  belong  to  a  house  not  far  ahead,  on  higher 
ground,  a  little  way  back  from  the  left-hand  side 
of  the  road.  Everell  stopped,  and  again  set  Geor- 
giana  on  her  feet. 

"  Do  you  know  whose  house  that  is  ?  "  he  asked, 
curtly. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  in  the  lowest  audible  voice. 

"  Good,"  said  he.  "  From  its  situation  I  think  it 
may  be  a  gentleman's.  At  all  events,  I  intend  to 
borrow  a  horse  there  —  perhaps  a  pair  of  horses, 
or  —  who  knows  ?  —  a  chaise  and  pair.  I  shall  tell 
what  story  I  see  fit ;  and  you  will  say  nothing  — 
or  at  most  a  mere  yes  or  no  to  confirm  my  account. 
You  are  under  my  compulsion,  which  I  am  ready  to 
enforce  by  desperate  acts.  Remember,  my  life  is 
not  worth  a  farthing,  in  the  eye  of  the  lawi;  noth- 
ing more  that  I  may  do  can  add  to  the  fate  I  have 
already  incurred;  so  if  all's  lost  I'm  determined  to 
stop  at  nothing.  I  warn  you  then,  once  and  for  all, 
attempt  not  to  thwart  me  in  the  slightest  matter, 
unless  you  wish  to  bring  down  such  a  catastrophe 
as  you  dare  not  even  imagine.  You  are  not  to  quit 
my  side  unless  at  my  command.  It  may  be,  your 
face  is  known  to  the  people  we  shall  see  in  that 
house:  you  must  have  been  closely  observed  the 

276 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

day  you  appeared  at  church.  So  I  must  bid  you  take 
your  neckerchief  and  veil  your  face  with  it  —  I'll 
tie  it  myself  when  you  have  it  arranged.  And  you 
will  on  no  account  remove  it  —  nor  the  cloak,  either, 
which  hides  your  figure.  For  all  this  concealment 
and  silence,  I  shall  contrive  to  account.  All  depends 
on  whom  I  have  to  deal  with  yonder ;  till  I  see  what 
manner  of  person,  I  know  not  what  tale  I  must 
invent.  Whatever  you  find  it,  you  will  support  it 
by  silence  and  obedience.  Bear  in  mind,  you  are 
not  your  own  mistress :  you  are  under  my  enforce- 
ment. If  evil  come  of  your  obedience,  the  conse- 
quences will  be  upon  my  head;  but  'tis  nothing  to 
the  evil  that  will  come  if  you  disobey.  So  beware, 
then,  of  causing  such  disaster  as  I  will  not  even 
speak  of ! " 

He  then  fastened  behind  her  head  the  neck-hand- 
kerchief, which  she  had  already  begun,  with  slow 
and  trembling  fingers,  to  adjust  over  her  face. 
Taking  this  compliance  as  a  sign  of  submission, 
he  next  arranged  his  cloak  more  carefully  around 
her,  clasped  her  once  more  in  his  arms,  and  walked 
on,  leading  the  horse,  till  he  arrived  at  a  small  cot- 
tage which  manifestly  served  as  lodge  to  the  house 
from  which  the  light  shone.  The  gate  was  closed, 
but  from  between  its  tall  pickets  Everell  could  make 
out  an  avenue  of  tall  trees  leading  up  to  the  mansion. 

277 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

He  knocked  and  halloed,  and  presently  a  man,  half- 
dressed,  carrying  a  lantern,  came  out  of  the  lodge 
and  inspected  him  through  the  gate. 

It  occurred  to  Everell  that  he  had  best  speak,  at 
this  stage,  as  if  he  were  a  friend,  or  at  least  an 
acquaintance,  of  the  master  of  the  house:  he  was 
thus  more  likely  to  obtain  prompt  admittance,  and, 
secondly,  he  might  thus  better  secure  the  gatekeeper 
against  betraying  him  to  the  inquiries  of  pursuers. 
Upon  this  later  point,  moreover,  he  took  a  grain  of 
comfort  from  the  fact  that  Foxwell  was  not  liked 
by  the  gentry  in  the  neighbourhood. 

"  Is  your  master  at  home?  "  he  said.  "  We  have 
met  with  an  accident.  Pray  do  not  keep  us  waiting 
in  the  cold  —  the  lady  is  shivering.  We  have  had 
to  leave  a  horse  behind,  and  this  one  is  quite  lame. 
'Tis  lucky  we  were  so  near  a  friend's.  Come,  my 
good  fellow,  open  quickly !  —  this  lady  must  be  got 
indoors  —  your  master  is  at  home,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  he's  at  home,"  said  the  fellow,  and 
dubiously  scratched  his  head.  "  As  to  opening  the 
gate  at  this  time  of  night,  why,  if  your  Honour  will 
but  let  me  take  your  name  to  master,  I  make  no 
doubt  —  " 

"  Rascal !  Dare  you  think  of  keeping  us  here  to 
freeze  ?  Names,  say  you  ?  —  dog,  if  you  but  knew 
our  names !  —  knew  whom  you  are  delaying !  —  or 

278 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

if  your  master  knew!  Open  at  once,  I  command 
you,  and  lead  us  to  your  master,  or  bitterly  you'll 
rue  it!" 

The  imperiousness  of  the  manner  exceeded  even 
that  of  the  words.  The  man,  convinced  that  the 
speaker  was  some  great  person  whom  his  master 
would  be  fearful  of  offending,  opened  the  gate 
with  much  bowing  and  apology. 

"  Now  shut  the  gate,"  ordered  Everell,  when  he 
and  his  company  had  entered.  "  And  if  any  one 
comes  inquiring  for  a  lady  and  gentleman  on  horse- 
back, say  you  know  nothing  of  them.  Remember 
that.  And  have  the  horse  taken  care  of." 

Emphasizing  his  commands  with  a  coin,  and  let- 
ting Georgiana  walk  beside  him,  Everell  proceeded 
up  the  avenue,  the  gatekeeper  leading  the  horse. 
The  mansion  proved  to  be  a  large  house  in  the 
square-built  style  nowadays  called  Georgian.  Ar- 
riving before  the  great  central  door,  the  guide 
summoned  a  rustic-looking  footman,  to  whom  he 
resigned  the  visitors  with  a  whispered  recommenda- 
tion that  caused  them  to  be  received  with  as  much 
respect  as  surprise.  Their  appearance  was  indeed 
sufficient  cause  for  the  latter,  Everell  still  having 
an  arm  clasped  around  Georgiana  in  her  masculine 
cloak  and  improvised  veil. 

They  found  themselves  in  a  dimly  lighted  hall, 
279 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

at  the  farther  end  of  which  was  a  door  matching 
that  by  which  they  had  entered.  There  was  the 
stairway  usual  to  such  houses,  beginning  along  one 
side  of  the  hall,  crossing  at  the  end,  and  finishing 
the  ascent  along  the  other  side  in  the  return  direc- 
tion. Having  closed  the  door,  the  servant  asked 
by  what  name  he  might  announce  my  lord  and  her 
ladyship  to  his  master. 

"  Tell  him  a  gentleman  and  lady,"  said  Everell, 
"  who  are  in  great  haste,  and  will  not  trouble  him 
long." 

"  A  gentleman  and  lady,  sir,"  repeated  the  serv- 
ant, obediently.  "  Begging  your  lordship's  pardon, 
but  master,  being  in  his  cups,  may  wish  to  know  — 
I  mean  to  say,  master  is  main  hard  to  draw  from 
his  comforts  at  this  time  o'  night  —  though  I  dare 
say  when  I  tell  him  you  be  friends  of  his  —  " 

"  Friends  ?  Certainly  —  unless  I  am  mistaken 
as  to  the  house.  But  that's  easily  set  right :  —  who 
is  your  master  ?  " 

"  Squire  Thornby,  sir ;  and  this  house  is 
Thornby  Hall." 

From  Everell's  look,  the  servant  concluded  that 
the  gentleman  probably  was  mistaken  as  to  the 
house. 

"  But  how  can  that  be?  "  cried  Everell.  "  Thornby 
Hall  is  on  the  other  road." 

280 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  'Tis  on  both  roads,  so  to  speak,  sir.  The  two 
run  near  together  just  hereaways;  the  house  looks 
on  each.  There's  twio  gates,  you  know,  sir,  and  two 
lodges;  the  gardener  lives  in  one,  and  Jenkins  in 
t'other." 

Everell  took  a  moment's  thought.  Resolution 
appeared  on  his  face. 

"  'Tis  just  as  well,"  he  said.  "  Mr.  Thornby  is 
known  to  me  by  reputation.  Tell  him  I  am  here, 
and  must  needs  beg  he  will  see  me  without  delay." 

This  was  spoken  with  such  an  air  that  the  servant 
conceived  it  best  to  carry  the  message  at  once,  with- 
out a  second  attempt  to  elicit  the  speaker's  name.  As 
soon  as  the  man  was  gone,  Everell  said  to  Georgi- 
ana: 

"  I  must  brave  it  out  with  this  Squire  Thornby, 
there's  nothing  else  for  it.  We  must  have  horses, 
and  soon :  'twere  folly  to  go  on  afoot,  heaven  knows 
how  far,  till  we  found  another  house.  As  well 
solicit  this  gentleman's  help  as  another's  —  'tis  all 
one,  he  may  be  no  harder  to  persuade.  He  has 
never  seen  me,  and  now  he  shall  not  see  you.  Talce 
good  heed  you  don't  show  your  face,  nor  shift  the 
cloak,  nor  let  your  voice  be  heard:  or  'twill  go 
ill,  I  promise  you." 

Georgiana  made  no  answer,  nor  gave  any  sign 
of  existence  save  to  draw  a  long  breath.  Was  it  of 

281 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

helpless  resignation  to  the  compulsion  she  was 
under?  was  it  to  brace  herself  for  resistance  to 
that  compulsion?  or  to  steady  herself  against 
anxiety  as  to  the  outcome?  Did  she  really  see 
through  his  show  of  dark  threat?  Was  her  scru- 
pulosity of  conscience  so  great,  that  so  much  intimi- 
dation was  required  to  keep  her  from  opposing  her 
abductor,  in  the  interests  alike  of  her  given  promise 
and  of  maidenly  propriety  ?  Oh,  woman,  woman !  — 

The  footman  returned  with  word  that  his  master 
would  attend  upon  the  visitors  in  a  minute;  and 
showed  them  into  a  large  room,  which  appeared,  by 
the  candles  he  lighted,  to  be  devoted  to  the  exer- 
cise of  his  master's  functions  as  justice  of  the  peace. 
Near  one  end  was  a  large  table  whereon  were  an 
inkstand,  pens,  and  a  few  weighty-looking  books. 
The  walls  were  panelled  in  oak,  and  the  bare  floor 
was  of  the  same  wood.  There  were  two  armchairs 
drawn  up  to  the  table,  and  two  before  the  fireplace, 
while  oak  settles  stood  against  the  wall.  The  serv- 
ant fanned  the  smouldering  fire  into  a  blaze,  put 
on  a  fresh  log,  and  left  the  apartment. 

Everell  had  been  looking  at  a  door  in  the  side  of 
the  room,  near  the  table.  It  was  slightly  ajar,  and 
its  key  was  in  place,  —  two  indications  that  it 
sheltered  no  secret.  As  soon  as  he  and  Georgiana 
were  alone,  Everell  led  her  hastily  to  it,  and,  throw- 

282 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

ing  it  open,  discovered  a  large  closet  containing  a 
disorderly  array  of  shabby  cloaks,  wigs,  whips, 
hats  and  such,  on  pegs ;  and  old  record  books  piled 
in  a  corner. 

"  'Tis  none  so  roomy,  but  'twill  do  at  a  pinch," 
said  Everell.  "  I  think  it  best  you  should  be  out  of 
sight  altogether,  miss.  I  can  tell  my  story  better. 
I  must  command  you  to  enter."  And  he  gently 
pushed  her  into  the  closet.  "  Do  not  dare  to  cry 
out;  and  when  I  open  the  door  to  fetch  you,  be 
veiled,  cloaked,  and  silent,  as  you  are  now.  Remem- 
ber! —  or  injury  will  be  done.  —  Stay,  those  books 
will  serve  you  to  sit  on  —  you  will  be  tired  stand- 
ing." He  guided  her  to  the  pile  of  old  volumes, 
and  then  came  out  of  the  closet,  and  locked  the  door. 
The  key,  long  unused  save  as  a  door  handle,  turned 
hardly,  and  he  had  difficulty  in  getting  it  from  the 
lock  in  order  to  pocket  it.  As  he  was  in  the  act  of 
drawing  it  out,  a  heavy  step  made  him  glance 
around.  He  beheld  a  robust-looking  man  with  a 
red  face,  who  stood  regarding  him  with  pugnacious 
astonishment. 

"  Your  servant,  sir,"  said  Everell,  with  an  easy 
bow.  "  Mr.  Thornby,  I  believe." 

"  That's  my  name,  sir,"  said  the  Squire,  bluntly. 
"  Might  I  ask  what  you're  doing  at  that  there 
closet  door,  sir?" 

283 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Closet  door,  sir  ? "  repeated  Everell,  lightly. 
"  Only  locking  it,  sir,  —  that's  all."  And  he  held 
up  the  key  as  evidence  of  the  truth  of  his  assertion. 

"  And  perhaps  I  have  a  right  to  know  what  the 
devil  you're  a-locking  it  for?  Who  asked  you  for 
to  lock  my  doors,  sir  ?  Ecod,  I  must  say  this  is  rare 
manners  in  a  stranger.  I  don't  remember  as  how 
I  ever  had  the  honour  of  seeing  your  face  afore, 
sir." 

"  'Tis  quite  true  we  have  never  met  before,  sir. 
The  loss  has  been  mine,"  said  Everell,  resting  upon 
courtesy  till  he  could  see  how  best  to  deal  with  his 
man.  At  the  same  time,  he  carelessly  pocketed  the 
key. 

"Are  you  trying  to  put  a  game  on  me,  sir?" 
said  Thornby,  wrathfully.  Though  he  had  evidently 
been  called  from  his  bottle,  he  was  in  full  posses- 
sion both  of  his  legs  and  of  his  usual  wits.  "  Look 
ye,  'tis  mighty  suspicious,  poking  your  nose  into  my 
closets.  I  have  a  shrewd  guess  what  you  came  into 
my  house  for  —  passing  yourself  off  as  a  lord  to  my 
fool  servants.  And  the  lady?  —  I  don't  see  any 
lady  here!  —  ecod,  perhaps  she's  poking  her  nose 
into  the  silver  closet !  Hey,  Jabez,  the  plate !  " 
With  that,  the  Squire  started  for  the  door  by  which 
he  had  entered. 

"  Nay,  sir,  you  wrong  us ! "  cried  Everell,  strid- 
284 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ing  to  intercept  him.  "  The  lady  is  in  that  closet 
—  I  took  the  liberty  —  she  desires  not  to  be  seen. 
Upon  my  honour,  sir,  we  had  no  purpose  in  entering 
your  house  but  to  ask  your  aid." 

Thornby,  having  been  stayed  by  Everett's  first 
declaration,  gazed  at  the  closet  and  then  at  the 
young  gentleman.  "  But  what  the  devil  does  the 
lady  please  to  hide  in  a  closet  for  ?  " 

"  She  desires  not  to  be  seen,  as  I  tell  you. 
'Twas  the  nearest  place  of  concealment.  I  locked 
the  door  lest  you  might  open  it  before  I  could 
explain." 

"  And  why  doesn't  she  desire  to  be  seen  ?  'Tis 
the  first  of  her  sex  afflicted  that  way,  as  ever  I 
heard  on.  Is  there  aught  the  matter  wi'  her  looks? 
Ecod,  what  o'  that?  There's  a  plenty  in  the  same 
boat  amongst  the  she- folk  hereabouts.  There's  only 
one  beauty  in  these  four  parishes,  if  I  be  any 
judge." 

"  'Tis  for  no  such  reason,"  said  Everell,  with  a 
smile,  as  he  began  to  see  his  way.  "  Sir,  I  per- 
ceive you're  a  blunt,  outspoken  gentleman,  given  to 
plain  dealing  yourself,  and  no  doubt  preferring  it  in 
others.  I'm  resolved  to  throw  myself  on  your  con- 
fidence, as  far  as  I  think  safe,  and  tell  you  my  story, 
or  as  much  as  I  dare.  Perhaps  then  your  fellow- 
feeling  —  for  your  words  imply  a  gallant  sense  of 

285 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

beauty  in  the  tender  sex  —  may  impel  you  to  assist 
me." 

"  H'm !  "  ejaculated  the  Squire,  dubiously,  though 
his  relaxed  countenance  showed  him  to  be  decidedly 
mollified.  "  Perhaps  —  and  then  again,  perhaps 
not.  Let's  hear  your  story,  howsomever.  Tis  all 
devilish  curious  —  the  lady  desiring  not  to  be  seen, 
and  the  rest  of  it.  Please  to  take  this  here  chair." 
The  Squire  moved  an  armchair  from  what  was 
evidently  the  clerk's  place  to  where  it  faced  across 
the  table  to  the  seat  of  judgment.  He  then  went 
around  and  assumed  the  latter,  having  meanwhile 
rung  for  a  servant.  "  And  just  to  be  on  the  safe 
side,"  he  added,  "  in  case  it  is  a  game  you're  a-trying 
on,  I'll  be  prepared."  He  drewi  a  bunch  of  small 
keys  from  his  pocket,  opened  a  drawer  in  his  side 
of  the  table,  and  fetched  out  a  pair  of  pistols,  which 
he  laid  before  him;  he  then  closed  the  drawer,  all 
but  a  few  inches.  "  Yes,  sir,  I  keep  'em  always 
loaded,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  to  the  priming.  "  I'm 
a  blunt,  outspoken  man,  as  you  observe,  and  I  take 
my  precautions." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  complain,  sir,"  said  Everell, 
who  sat  with  his  face  to  the  Squire,  and  his  back 
to  the  door  of  the  apartment ;  "  a  stranger  intrud- 
ing at  this  hour  of  the  night  must  take  what  recep- 
tion he  finds." 

286 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

"  Very  well  said,  sir.  And  at  the  same  time  I'll 
show  you  as  I  know  how  to  treat  a  gentleman,  too, 
in  case  you  be  one.  —  Jabez,"  for  the  servant  had 
now  entered,  "  tell  Bartholomew!  to  fetch  a  bottle 
of  what  I've  been  drinking.  And  tell  the  gentlemen 
at  table  —  no,  they  bean't  gentlemen  neither,  and 
damn  me  if  I'll  call  'em  so !  —  tell  'em  to  make  the 
best  of  it  without  me,  I'll  be  with  'em  when  I  see  fit. 
—  A  man  is  hard  put  to  it  for  proper  company 
sometimes,  sir,"  he  explained,  when  Jabez  had  gone. 
"  Though  if  some  beggarly  attorney,  or  wtorse,  can 
do  justice  to  his  bottle,  and  tell  a  good  tale  or  so, 
talk  intelligently  of  dogs  and  horses,  and  listen  with 
respect  to  his  betters,  why,  some  things  may  be 
winked  at." 

It  was  manifestly  Thornby's  wish  to  postpone 
matters  till  the  wine  came;  so  Everell  answered  in 
the  strain  he  thought  likely  to  command  the  other's 
favour.  Bartholomew  presently  appeared  with 
bottle  and  glasses,  observed  the  pistols  with  mild 
wonder,  and  retired. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Thornby,  "  we'll  drink  the  lady's 
health,  and  then  for  your  business.  Nay,  don't 
trouble  yourself  to  reach;  keep  to  your  own  side 
of  the  table."  And  the  Squire  pushed  bottle  and 
glass  to  Everell's  hands,  preferring  that  these  should 
not  come  too  close  to  the  pistols.  "  The  lady's 

287 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

health,    as    I    said.      Shall    we    have   her    name, 
sir?" 

"  Not  at  present,  if  you'll  excuse  me." 

"As  you  please.  Health  of  the  fair  unknown 
in  the  closet  —  eh  ?  " 

"  The  fair  unkrown  in  the  closet,"  said  Everell, 
and  the  glasses  went  to  the  lips. 

"  And  now),  by  the  Lord,"  said  the  Squire,  "  you 
shall  return  the  compliment.  I've  drunk  to  your 
fair  companion:  you  shall  drink  to  a  lady  of  my 
proposing." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Everell,  and  dis- 
sembled his  impatience  wihile  the  glasses  were  filled 
anew. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Thornby,  "a  lady  of  my  pro- 
posing :  the  beauty  of  the  four  parishes  —  nay,  the 
beauty  of  the  county  —  damme,  I  may  as  well  say 
the  beauty  of  England!  I'll  give  her  name,  too: 
there's  no  reason,  as  I  know  of,  for  to  keep  it  back. 
To  Miss  Georgiana  Foxwell !  " 

"  Miss  Georgiana  Foxwell,"  echoed  Everell, 
wondering,  as  he  drank,  whether  she  could  hear 
herself  thus  twice  honoured  in  so  short  a  time. 

"  I  suppose  you  never  saw  that  young  lady  I 
proposed,  sir,"  said  Thornby,  as  he  put  down  his 
glass  and  resumed  his  seat,  for  the  toasts  had  been 
drunk  standing. 

288 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  I  am  a  stranger  in  this  part  of  England,  sir," 
Everell  answered. 

"  I  take  you  for  a  town-bred  man.  Maybe,  then, 
you've  met  an  uncle  of  hers  in  London  aforetime 
—  one  Mr.  Robert  Foxwell  ?  " 

"  I  have  met  a  Mr.  Robert  Epxwtell  —  but  I  can- 
not truly  say  I  know  much  of  him." 

"  The  less  the  better,  if  truth  must  be  told ;  he's 
a  damned  supercilious  fop!  A  rogue,  too.  He 
hates  me  like  poison,  but,  for  all  that,  he'll  let  me 
marry  his  niece." 

"  How  so,  if  he  hates  you  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Thornby,  tapping  the  drawer  of 
the  table  with  his  fingers,  "  I  have  that  in  my  pos- 
session which  makes  him  consider  my  wishes.  Yes, 
sir,"  and  he  thrust  his  hand  carelessly  into  the 
drawer,  till  Everell  heard  a  rustle  of  papers,  "  I 
hold  the  means  of  keeping  Mr.  Robert  Foxwell  in 
his  place.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  Let's 
hear  your  petition,  friend;  and  you  might  begin 
with  your  name,  which  I  don't  remember  as  how 
you've  yet  mentioned." 

"  I  would  rather  finish  than  begin  with  it,"  said 
Everell,  "  if,  when  you've  heard  me,  you  still  require 
it.  You  may  not  wish  in  the  future  to  admit  having 
helped  me:  if  you  remain  ignorant  of  my  name, 
you  can  never  be  sure." 

289 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"  'Tis  by  no  means  certain  that  I  shall  help  you," 
declared  the  Squire,  bluntly. 

"  I  have  good  hopes  of  you,"  said  Everell. 
"  Frankly,  sir,  I  am  running  away  with  that  lady." 
Thornby  stared  and  blinked;  finally  threw  back  his 
head  and  laughed  loudly.  "  Oho,  that's  how  the 
wind  sits,  eh  ?  Ecod,  I  might  'a'  guessed  as  much." 

"  You  are  a  man  of  spirit,  with  an  eye  for  beauty," 
Everell  went  on  rapidly :  "  therefore  you  will  not 
blame  me.  I  love  her,  she  loves  me;  but  her  near- 
est relation  wishes  her  to  marry  another  —  one 
wtiom  she  does  not  love." 

"  Devil  take  her  nearest  relation !  "  said  Thornby. 

"  Amen !  He  has  so  worked  upon  her  mind,  by 
threats  of  ill  consequences  to  me,  as  to  obtain  her 
consent  to  marry  this  other  gentleman,  much  against 
the  dictates  of  her  heart.  She  is  a  lady  who,  having 
once  given  her  promise,  would  fulfil  it :  she  was  thus 
barred  from  eloping  with  me  of  her  own  will. 
What  then  was  I  to  do?  " 

"  Ecod,  sir,"  Thornby  replied,  heartily,  "  you  was 
to  take  matters  in  hand,  and  carry  her  away,  of 
your  own  will !  " 

"  Precisely  what  I  have  done,  sir !  I  knew  I 
could  rely  upon  your  approval.  —  Well,  sir,  I 
seized  her  under  her  guardian's  very  nose,  set  her 
upon  a  horse  that  stood  waiting,  mounted  behind 

290 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

her,  and  was  away  at  a  gallop  before  anybody  had 
the  wit  to  stop  me.  I  made  what  speed  I  could,  over 
roads  unknown  to  me;  how  far  we  have  ridden, 
what  adventures  we  have  had,  I  beg  you  will  excuse 
me  from  relating.  So  far,  no  pursuit  has  come 
within  sight  or  hearing:  though,  if  her  relation 
was  prompt,  he  need  have  lost  no  time  but  to  saddle 
his  horses.  Our  own  beast,  which  kind  fortune 
had  placed  ready  to  my  hand,  at  last  broke  down; 
but  within  a  short  distance  of  your  gate,  which  I 
take  as  another  circumstance  of  fortune's  favour." 

"  That's  as  how  it  may  be,"  said  the  Squire,  who 
had  followed  the  lover's  recital  with  lively  interest. 
"  But  first  I'd  give  something  to  know  who  'tis 
you've  —  ha,  ha!  —  carried  off.  Ecod,  perhaps 
'tisn't  the  first  time  a  woman  has  been  carried  off 
against  her  will  but  not  against  her  wish!  Who 
is  it,  man  ?  —  come,  who  is  the  lady  ?  " 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  insist  upon  knowing  just 
now.  Doubtless  the  news  will  travel  all  too  soon. 
Meanwhile  I  would  have  your  help  without  a 
scruple.  Should  you  be  acquainted  with  her  family, 
you  might  feel  bound  to  cross  my  purpose." 

Thornby,  after  a  moment's  thought,  admitted 
there  was  something  in  that.  Still,  "  I  wonder  who 
it  can  be :  —  how  far  do  you  say  you've  rid  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  say,"  replied  Everell,  smiling1. 
291 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"There's  Miss  Hollowfield,"  mused  Thornby, 
aloud ;  "  her  grandf  ather'd  be  opposed  to  a  strip- 
ling like  you  —  but  nobody'd  run  away  with  such 
a  face  as  hers.  And  there's  Miss  Marvell  —  why, 
I'll  wager  'tis  Dick  Birch  they  want  to  marry  her 
to.  Sukey  Marvell,  that's  who  'tis." 

"  I  must  not  tell,"  said  Everell,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Yes,  'tis  Sukey,"  declared  Thornby :  "  well, 
she's  not  as  bad  as  t'other.  And  old  D5ck  Birch, 
I'll  be  glad  to  see  him  done  out  of  her!  —  damned 
coxcomb!  serves  him  right  for  the  trick  he  played 
me  at  York  races.  Oh,  I'll  have  the  laugh  on  Dick 
next  time  we  meet !  —  I'll  have  him  here  for  some 
shooting,  a-purpose.  Ha,  ha !  These  conceited  fel- 
lows think  they  can  marry  any  pretty  girl  they 
set  their  minds  on,.  Well,  young  sir,  I  wish  you 
joy.  I've  owed  Dick  Birch  a  grudge  these  many 
months." 

"  The  favour  I  have  to  ask,"  said  Everell,  "  is  the 
loan  of  a  chaise,  with  horses  and  a  man,  to  the 
nearest  town  from  which  I  can  travel  on  by  post." 

"  Why,  damn  me,  that's  not  so  much  to  ask, 
neither,"  said  Thornby,  still  vastly  good-humoured 
over  the  discomfiture  of  Dick  Birch. 

"  I  thank  you  from  my  heart.  And,  as  every 
minute  counts,  I  hope  I  may  be  set  on  my  way  as 
soon  as  possible." 

292 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  H'm !  —  many  a  man,  sir,  would  think  twice 
afore  sending  out  his  horses  —  but  I  don't  want 
to  spoil  sport.  In  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound. 
I'll  give  orders;  and  meanwhile  my  housekeeper 
can  show  Sukey  to  the  guest-chamber  —  she  may 
like  to  make  herself  trim  in  front  of  a  glass  —  you 
know  the  ways  o'  that  sex  —  while  the  horses  are 
being  put  to." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  but  I  daren't  allow  the  lady 
so  far  out  of  my  control.  She  may  be  shown  to  a 
room,  if  she  will;  but  the  room  must  have  but 
one  door,  and  I  must  wait  outside  that  door.  Pray 
bear  in  mind,  she  is  travelling  under  compulsion." 

"  Compulsion !  —  oh,  certainly  —  ha,  ha !  I'll 
send  for  Mrs.  Jenkins,  and  for  old  Rodge ;  he  shall 
drive  you  —  'twill  need  a  careful  man  with  the 
horses."  Thornby,  who  had  risen  from  the  table, 
pulled  the  bell-cord.  "  And  meanwhile  we'll  drink 
confusion  to  Dick  Birch.  Dod,  to  see  him  bubbled 
out  of  a  bride  this  way !  —  it  does  one's  heart  good ! 
But,  man,  we'd  better  let  Sukey  out  o'  that  closet, 
now  'tis  all  settled.  Come,  you've  got  the  key: 
unlock,  unlock." 

"  But  there  must  be  a  condition :  you'll  not  ask 
the  lady  to  uncover  her  face :  she  must  still  remain 
unknown." 

"  Oh,  be  it  so :  let  Sukey  remain  unknown ;  it 
293 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

may  save  me  trouble,  to  be  sure.  But  let  her  out, 
let  her  out." 

Everell  unlocked  the  door,  and,  peering  in  before 
he  opened  it  wide,  saw  that  Georgiana  was  still 
cloaked  and  veiled.  He  led  her  forth  with  a  whis- 
pered "  Remember !  —  not  a  word !  " 

"Your  humble  servant,  ma'am,"  said  Thornby, 
bowing  wjith  all  the  elegance  at  his  command. 

Before  there  was  time  for  either  speech  or  silence, 
a  noise  of  steps  and  voices  arose  outside  the  apart- 
ment. Thornby  turned,  with  a  look  of  wrath  at  the 
interruption,  toward  the  door.  It  was  flung  open, 
and  a  man  in  cloak  and  riding-boots  walked  in, 
followed  by  a  servant  of  his  own,  and  by  the  foot- 
man Jabez. 

"  To  horse,  Thornby !  we  must  scour  the  coun- 
try !  "  cried  the  newcomer  as  he  hastily  approached. 
His  glance  nowi  fell  upon  Everell  and  Georgiana, 
and  of  a  sudden  he  stopped  short,  with  an  ejaculation 
of  surprise. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Foxwell  ? "  inquired 
Thornby.  "  .Why  d'ye  stare  like  that?  " 


294 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PISTOLS 

THORNBY'S  words  indicated  surprise  at  Foxwell's 
surprise.  Foxwell  shot  a  keen  glance  to  see  if  the 
other's  surprise  was  genuine.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  that.  This  occasioned  new  surprise  in 
Foxwell. 

"  Egad,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  should  think  I  might 
be  pardoned  for  staring.  How  come  they  to  be 
here?  It  puzzles  me,  I  own." 

"  Who  here?  "  blurted  Thornby.  "  This  gentle- 
man and  lady,  d'ye  mean  ?  " 

"  Ay,  the  gentleman  and  lady  I've  been  in  search 
of." 

"  Why,  you  don't  desire  to  stop  'em,  do  you  ? 
What  the  deuce  is  little  Sue  Marvell  to  you?  — 
and  Dick  Birch?  Captain  Marvell  is  no  friend  of 
yours.  Rather  help  these  young  people  away,  if 
only  for  the  joke  on  Dick  Birch." 

"Of  what  are  you  talking?"  cried  Foxwell. 
295 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  Can  it  be  possible  you  don't  know  who  these  young 
people  are?  " 

"  I  don't  know  much  of  the  gentleman,"  Thornby 
admitted;  "but  the  girl  is  Sukey  Marvell." 

"  Sukey  Marvell !  —  Sukey  devil !  "  exclaimed 
Foxwell,  and,  striding  up  to  Georgiana,  he  snatched 
the  handkerchief  from  her  face.  Everell  had  left 
her  standing  at  the  end  of  the  table,  himself  having 
moved  around  to  Thornby's  former  place  a  moment 
earlier  for  a  purpose  of  his  own.  Checking  an 
impulse  to  go  to  Georgiana's  side,  he  now  stood 
between  the  magisterial  chair  and  the  table.  Despite 
all  that  was  at  stake,  he  was  amused  at  the  sight  of 
Thornby  gazing  with  mouth  wide  open  at  the  face 
so  unexpectedly  revealed. 

"  It  seems  you  find  reason  to  stare  now,"  said 
Foxwell  to  the  Squire.  "  Egad,  Thornby,  had  they 
bamboozled  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Thornby,  I  hold  you  to  your  promise," 
Everell  put  in ;  "a  chaise,  horses,  and  a  man." 

"  Chaise,  horses,  and  damnation !  "  was  the  reply 
of  Thornby,  as  he  at  last  found  a  voice.  "  I  never 
knew  'twas  she  you  was  a-running  away  with.  You 
said  'twas  Sukey  Marvell." 

"  Pardon  me,  no ;  you  said  'twas  Sukey  Marvell. 
And  I  hold  you  to  your  promise." 

"  Hold  and  be  damned !  —  And  Foxwell,  you've 
296 


"HE    SNATCHED    THE    HANDKERCHIEF    FROM    HER    FACE." 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

deceived  me,  too.  You  said  you'd  persuade  her  to 
have  me." 

"  So  I  have  done,"  asserted  Foxwell,  "  and  she 
has  given  her  consent." 

"  Given  her  consent  ?  Then  you  was  the  rela- 
tion —  and  I'm  the  Dick  Birch !  What  ?  —  and  this 
here  stripling  would  'a'  had  me  help  to  do  myself 
out  of  a  bride !  Oh,  you  shall  all  pay  for  this  among 
you!" 

"  Softly,  softly,  Thornby,"  said  Foxwell.  "  She 
has  promised  to  marry  you.  Have  you  not,  miss  ?  " 

After  a  brief  hesitation,  Georgiana  uttered  a 
reluctant  "  yes." 

"  Then  you  forced  the  promise  from  her,"  said 
Thornby. 

"  She  gave  it  willingly,"  returned  Foxwell.  "  Did 
you  not,  miss  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  willingly,"  said  Georgiana,  in  the  faint- 
est of  voices. 

"  And  yet  you  ran  away  with  this  here  other 
man,"  said  Thornby. 

"  I  was  —  carried  away,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone 
as  frail  as  before. 

"  And  you  are  still  willing  to  marry  Mr. 
Thornby?"  said  her  uncle. 

«  Y— yes." 

Thornby's  brow  cleared.  "  Then,  ecod,  not  much 
297 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

harm's  done,  after  all.  Tis  all  well  that  ends 
well." 

Everell  again  put  in,  addressing  Thornby :  "  She 
is  willing  to  marry  you,  perhaps.  But  ask  her  if 
she  will  ever  love  you,  man." 

"  Eh!  Well,  what  about  that?  D'ye  think  you'll 
ever  love  me,  miss?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,  sir,"  cried  Georgiana,  suddenly 
emphatic  of  voice.  "  I  shall  always  love  this  gen- 
tleman !  For  ever,  and  ever,  and  ever !  "  And  she 
moved  toward  the  man  of  her  choice. 

Her  manner  of  speech,  her  look  of  disdain,  and 
Everell's  smile  of  triumph  were  too  much  for 
Thornby's  savage  vanity.  "  Then  don't  flatter  your- 
self I'll  marry  you,"  he  answered,  with  retaliatory 
scorn.  "  A  white- faced  vixen,  when  all's  said  and 
done !  Mistress  of  Thornby  Hall,  after  this  night's 
business  ?  —  dod,  I'm  warned  in  time !  " 

"  Oh,  say  it  again ! "  exclaimed  Georgiana,  re- 
joiced. 

"  I  do  say  it  again !    Ecod,  I  know  my  value !  " 

"  I  am  freed  of  my  promise !  "  she  cried. 

"  Ay,"  said  Thornby,  with  a  swelling  wrath  which 
had  to  be  discharged  upon  somebody,  "  and  your 
blundering  uncle  may  go  whistle.  —  You  shall  an- 
swer for  this,  Foxwell,  d'ye  hear?  I'll  see  to  that. 
'Tis  all  along  o'  your  mismanagement.  But  I'll  be 

298 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

quits  wi'  ye.    I'll  make  use  o'  that  there  letter !  — 
rat  me  but  I  will!" 

"  You  are  quite  unreasonable,  Thornby,"  said 
Foxwell,  patiently,  and,  turning  to  his  attendant, 
"  Joseph,  wait  without." 

Joseph  left  the  room,  whereupon  Thornby  had 
the  grace  to  order  his  own  servant  to  be  off;  so 
that  the  four  principals  were  left  alone.  Foxwell 
made  sure  that  the  door  was  closed  against  espial, 
and  thrust  into  the  keyhole  a  part  of  the  hand- 
kerchief he  had  taken  from  Georgiana.  He  then 
returned  to  Thornby,  who  had  meanwhile  been 
fuming  and  pacing  the  floor. 

"  You  have  cause  for  anger,  I  admit,"  said  Fox- 
well  ;  "  but  you  are  bound  to  own  I  have  done  my 
part." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  sir,"  roared  Thornby.  "  I'll 
make  you  smart  afore  I've  done!  See  if  I  don't!  " 

Foxwell's  own  temper  gave  way.  He  had  been 
put  to  much  exercise  of  self-command  this  evening, 
and  had  scarce  yet  regained  his  bodily  composure 
after  his  ride.  Of  a  sudden,  now,  his  face  darkened. 
"  Then  by  heaven  I'll  not  smart  alone !  You  shall 
suffer,  miss,  —  and  your  lover,  too !  Let  all  come 
out.  You  say  you  know  little  of  this  young  gen- 
tleman, Thornby.  Would  you  know  more?  —  who 
he  is,  what  he  is  ?  " 

299 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

"  Uncle,  you  will  not ! "  entreated  Georgiana. 
"  With  my  promise  I  bought  your  silence  —  re- 
member that !  —  and  I  have  not  broken  my  promise. 
'Tis  Mr.  Thornby  has  released  me." 

"  Very  well.  Let  us  stick  to  promises,  by  all 
means!  But  I  have  your  Romeo  upon  other 
grounds.  —  Before  you  as  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
Mr.  Thornby,  I  charge  this  gentleman  with  the 
abduction  of  my  niece.  —  That,  too,  is  a  hanging 
matter,  miss." 

"  Not  so,  Mr.  Thornby,"  cried  Georgiana;  "  for, 
now  that  I  am  free,  I  go  with  this  gentleman  of  my 
own  consent.  'Tis  not  abduction,  'tis  on  my  part 
a  voluntary  flight." 

"  You  forget  you  are  not  yet  your  own  mistress," 
said  Foxwell.  "  Besides,  the  abduction  has  been 
committed.  Moreover,  Thornby,  the  gentleman  has 
appropriated  to  himself  a  horse  of  mine.  I  demand 
of  you  to  act  upon  these  charges." 

Thornby  underwent  a  sudden  accession  of  magis- 
terial dignity.  "  I  know  my  office,  Mr.  Foxwell. 
Nobody  has  ever  accused  me  of  failing  there.  Sir," 
—  this  to  Everell,  —  "  when  the  case  is  put  to  me 
in  that  form,  I  must  do  as  my  commission  requires. 
I  must  needs  hold  you  for  a  hearing.  —  I'll  send 
for  my  clerk,  Foxwell;  I  left  him  at  the  table,  but 
I  dare  say  he's  still  sober  enough  for  what's  to  be 

300 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

done."  Relapsing  then  into  his  more  usual  puerility, 
he  added,  "  Dod,  such  impudent  young  strangers 
sha'n't  carry  off  our  ladies  with  impunity,  neither !  " 

Georgiana  had  hastened  to  Everett's  side.  "  Oh, 
save  yourself  now"  she  besought  him  in  a  whisper. 

"  Not  without  you,  sweet.  —  Gentlemen/'  he 
cried,  in  time  to  stop  Thornby's  movement  toward 
the  door,  "  one  word.  I  am  in  a  desperate  position. 
Abduction,  horse-stealing,  the  other  business,  —  any 
one  of  them  is  the  price  of  a  halter.  With  but  one 
life  to  lose,  then,  what  is  a  crime  or  two  more?  'Tis 
but  getting  the  more  value  for  my  neck."  He  took 
up  the  pistols  left  on  the  table  by  Thornby,  who 
had  lost  all  thought  of  them  on  being  convinced  of 
Everell's  honesty.  Dexterously  cocking  them  as  he 
spoke,  the  young  man  went  on :  "  If  I  must  die,  be 
sure  that  one  or  both  of  you  shall  go  before  me  — 
'tis  fair  precedence,  cedant  arma  to  gee!  But  first 
I  will  have  one  more  venture  for  my  life  —  and 
for  my  love."  By  this  time,  he  had  each  of  the 
gentlemen  in  line  with  a  different  pistol.  "  Mr. 
Thornby,  move  or  call  out,  at  your  peril.  Mr.  Fox- 
well,  the  same  to  you ;  and  this  also :  I  think  I  can 
persuade  you  to  withdraw  your  charges,  and,  fur- 
thermore, to  lend  me  the  horses  that  brought  you 
and  your  man  to  this  place." 

v    Foxwell's  only  weapon  at  the  moment  was  his 

301 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

sword ;  he  had  left  his  pistols  outside  in  the  holsters, 
thinking  to  spend  but  a  minute  in  Thornby  Hall 
and  foreseeing  no  need  of  them  there.  He  per- 
ceived from  Everell's  manner  of  handling  the  pistols 
that  the  young  man  was  of  perfect  assurance  in 
their  use.  The  same  circumstance  found  speedy 
way  to  the  mind  of  Thornby,  who  was  unarmed. 
So  the  two  gentlemen  stood  as  they  were  requested. 
Foxwell,  for  want  of  a  better  temporizing  answer, 
feigned  to  yield  with  a  good  grace,  saying:  "  You 
present  so  strong  an  argument,  that  I  know  not 
how  to  oppose  you." 

"  I  fear  if  the  pistol  were  my  only  argument," 
said  Everell,  calmly,  "  my  victory  would  end  as  soon 
as  my  back  was  turned.  I  will  try  an  argument 
that  may  have  more  lasting  effect.  Miss  Foxwell, 
I  must  bid  you  pull  out  this  drawer  of  the  table, 
—  stay  where  you  are,  Mr.  Thornby !  —  which  the 
owner  has  carelessly  left  open."  Everell  moved  a 
step  to  the  side,  giving  Georgiana  closer  access  to 
the  drawer.  She  obeyed  in  wonder,  for  she  had 
overheard  little  of  the  talk  while  she  was  in  the 
closet,  and  nothing  of  Thornby' s  allusion  to  that 
in  the  drawer  which  gave  the  power  of  keeping  Mr. 
Robert  Foxwell  in  his  place.  Everell  now  told  her 
to  empty  the  contents  of  the  drawer  upon  the  table, 
and  to  spread  them  out  so  that  each  document  might 

302 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

be, seen.  "Not  a  step,  Mr.  Thornby!  You,  Mr. 
Foxwell,  come  near  enough  to  see  if  there  be  any- 
thing of  interest  to  you.  That  will  do  —  no  farther ! 
Look  carefully." 

Foxwell's  keen  eye  had  already  begun  to  range 
the  various  papers  as  they  lay  separately  exposed. 
Suddenly  he  uttered  a  quick  "  Ah  1 "  and  stepped 
forward,  reaching  out.  Everell  checked  him  by  a 
sharp  "  Back!  "  and  a  movement  of  the  pistol;  then 
followed  with  his  glance  the  line  of  the  extended 
arm. 

"  Miss  Foxwell,"  said  Everell,  "  be  good  enough 
to  take  up  the  paper  your  uncle  reached  for.  Twill 
be  one  of  those  three  the  shadow  falls  athwart,  — 
the  shadow  of  the  wine-bottle ;  —  ay,  those.  — 
Don't  move,  Mr,  Thornby.  —  Open  them  out, 
Georgiana,  and  hold  them  where  I  can  see.  H'm; 
apparently  a  legal  document  concerning  one  William 
Hardy.  The  next,  please :  *  a  new  cure  for  the 
glanders.'  The  other :  a  letter  signed  '  R.  Foxwell.' 
—  Back,  Mr.  Foxwell.  Is  that  all  you  see  here  of 
importance  to  you?  —  Mr.  Thornby,  if  you  take 
a  step  toward  the  door  —  !  Is  that  all,  Mr.  Fox- 
well?  I  will  not  read  it  unless  I  am  forced  to." 

"  That  is  all,"  replied  Foxwell,  "  and  'tis  some- 
thing Mr.  Thornby  has  no  right  to  possess.  I  ask 
you,  as  a  man  of  honour,  to  restore  it  to  me." 

303 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

"  In  proper  time,  sir.  Meanwhile,  Miss  Foxwell, 
fold  the  paper  as  it  was,  and  place  it  in  my  waistcoat 
pocket.  —  "Tis  well  done ;  though  I  dare  not  thank 
you,  for  you  do  this  under  compulsion." 

"  By  the  Lord,  sir,"  Thornby  burst  out  at  last, 
"  this  here's  robbery,  sir !  —  rank  robbery  under 
arms!  You  may  carry  it  off  for  the  moment  — 
I'm  not  moving,  I'm  only  warning  you,  for  your 
own  good  —  but  this  sort  of  thing  is  bound  to  end 
in  a  halter,  sir." 

"  Possibly ;  but,  as  I  have  said,  a  crime  or  two 
more  can  make  no  difference  to  a  man  in  my  situa- 
tion. You  were  kind  enough  to  tell  me  that  in 
this  drawer  was  the  means  of  making  Mr.  Foxwell 
consider  your  wishes.  Let  us  see  if  it  will  make 
him  consider  mine.  Mr.  Foxwell,  whatever  the 
document  contains,  I'm  not  like  to  use  it  against 
Georgiana's  kinsman.  But  if  I  am  taken  prisoner 
here,  'twill  no  doubt  fall  into  Mr.  Thornby's  hands 
again.  Your  interest,  then,  lies  in  my  escape." 

"  Damn  Foxwell's  interest !  "  broke  in  Thornby. 
"  I'm  the  man  to  bargain  with.  If  you  restore  that 
letter  and  them  pistols  —  'tis  my  property,  that  let- 
ter, for  all  he  says;  mine,  bought  and  paid  for, 
as  I  can  prove  by  Jeremiah  Filson  —  " 

This  name,  in  relation  to  the  letter,  was  another 


304 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

surprise  to  Foxwell.  But  ere  Thornby  could  pro- 
ceed farther,  Everell  commanded  silence. 

"  You  are  very  good,  Mr.  Thornby,  but  I  will 
not  bargain  with  you.  I  will  forego  the  chaise 
and  horses,  release  you  from  your  promise,  —  on 
condition  of  your  entering  that  closet.  Come,  I 
mean  it.  You  shall  be  let  out  in  good  time.  'Tis 
no  such  bad  place  —  the  lady  suffered  no  harm  there. 
Into  the  closet,  if  you  please.  I'll  return  your  pis- 
tols—  by  and  by."  Everell,  while  speaking,  had 
come  around  the  end  of  the  table,  and  was  now 
threatening  Thornby  with  both  pistols  at  close 
quarters.  "  Into  the  closet,  sir !  By  heaven,  don't 
try  my  patience !  —  a  man  who  may  be  hanged  three 
times  over  doesn't  balk  at  the  chance  of  a  fourth. 
In,  in!" 

Slowly  retreating  from  the  weapons  as  they  were 
thrust  almost  into  his  face,  Thornby  backed  into 
the  closet,  glaring  futile  wrath. 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  Everell ;  "  if  you  keep  silence 
there,  I  engage  not  to  fire  through  the  door."  Hav- 
ing put  one  pistol  in  his  coat  pocket,  he  locked  the 
door  and  repocketed  the  key.  He  turned  now  to 
Foxwell,  who  had  been  pondering.  "  I  must  bor- 
row your  horses,  sir,  to  the  first  posting-place.  I 
will  send  them  back  from  there,  with  these  pistols 
and  this  key.  You  can  then  release  this  gentleman, 

305 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

if  he  be  not  freed  by  other  means  before  that;  — 
he  will  soon  begin  to  make  himself  heard.  I  think 
you  will  now  see  fit  to  speed  my  parting;  for,  look 
you,  if  I  am  taken  in  my  flight,  Heaven  knows 
whose  hands  this  letter  may  fall  into." 

"  And  if  you  are  not  taken  ?  "  inquired  Foxwell. 

"  I  will  not  read  it,  nor  let  anybody  else  read  it ; 
and  will  send  it  to  you  from  France  as  soon  as  I 
am  married  to  your  niece.  Regarding  that  matter, 
I  will  only  say  now  that  I  am  a  man  of  honour, 
of  good  family,  and  some  fortune.  —  I  must  still 
carry  you  off,  sweet.  'Tis  the  one  safe  course, 
despite  the  dangers  and  discomforts  you  must 
share." 

"  Better  the  dangers  and  discomforts  with  you, 
than  the  anxieties  if  I  were  left  behind,"  said  Geor- 
giana. 

"  Then,  Mr.  Foxwell,  may  I  beg  you  to  conduct 
us  to  the  horses?  —  your  servant  might  dispute 
our  taking  them." 

Everell  had  now  put  the  second  pistol  into  the 
opposite  coat  pocket,  believing  that  the  letter  gave 
him  sufficient  control  over  Foxwell's  actions.  But 
he  kept  his  hand  upon  his  sword-hilt,  intending 
that  Foxwell  should  walk  in  front  of  him  to  the 
horses. 

"  A  moment,  pray,"  said  Foxwell.  "  Consider 
306 


THE   FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

the  legal  position  I  shall  be  left  in  if  I  assist  you. 
It  does  not  suit  me  to  fly  the  country,  as  it  does 
you." 

"  Who  will  trouble  you  on  that  score  ?  Certainly 
this  booby  justice  will  not  desire  to  publish  a  matter 
in  which  he  makes  so  poor  a  figure.  He  knows  not 
who  I  am.  In  what  crime  can  he  then  accuse  you 
of  aiding  me?  The  abduction  and  the  horse-steal- 
ing you  need  not  pursue  —  you  have  signed  no 
charge,  sworn  to  none." 

"  The  theft  of  the  letter,"  said  Foxwell.  "  If  I 
help  you  to  escape,  I  shall  be  accessory  to  that." 

"  But  you  say  he  has  no  right  to  its  possession. 
In  any  case,  you  can  show  him  how  ridiculous  he 
will  appear.  I  think  you  run  little  risk ;  but  be  that 
as  it  may,  I  must  think  of  my  own  risk.  Every 
moment  adds  to  it ;  and  to  the  danger  of  this  letter 
coming  to  wrong  hands.  So,  if  you  please,  to  the 
horses." 

A  curious  look  was  on  Foxwell's  face.  It  was 
true  that  any  struggle  with  Everell  in  the  presence 
of  Thornby  or  his  people  might  result  in  the  letter's 
falling  again  into  that  gentleman's  hands.  But  there 
was  now  no  such  person  to  interfere.  A  quick 
sword-thrust  —  which  could  be  justified  as  against 
an  escaping  rebel  —  might  win  the  letter  in  a  mo- 
ment; Foxwell  could  destroy  it  immediately  at  the 

307 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

fire,  and  make  his  peace  with  Thornby  by  releasing 
him  and  showing  his  outrage  avenged.  No  danger, 
then,  of  the  letter's  capture  in  the  long  journey  of 
a  fugitive,  or  of  Thornby's  attempting  retaliation 
by  course  of  law.  It  was  all  seen  in  an  instant. 
Foxwell's  sword  flashed  in  the  air,  and  Everell  had 
to  spring  aside  to  save  himself. 

"  Ah,  treacherous !  "  cried  the  young  man,  as  his 
own  blade  leaped  out. 

Foxwell's  second  thrust  came  with  surprising 
swiftness,  but  was  fairly  met;  and  the  two  swords 
darted  and  clashed  again  and  again.  Georgiana, 
with  every  impulse  to  rush  between  the  fighters, 
dared  not  do  so,  and  was  indeed  compelled  to  move 
rapidly  to  keep  out  of  their  way,  watching  them 
with  fear  and  horror.  While  the  noise  of  their  quick 
feet,  their  loud  breathing  and  sharp  ejaculations, 
and  the  clashing  steel  filled  the  apartment,  there 
came  from  some  other  part  of  the  house  a  sound 
of  half-drunken  singing.  This  was  unheeded,  even 
when  it  was  evidently  approaching.  Foxwell,  per- 
ceiving that  he  had  counted  too  much  upon  the 
suddenness  and  sureness  of  his  attack,  and  feeling 
that  he  was  entitled  to  little  mercy  if  he  lost,  fought 
with  the  impetuosity  of  desperation.  His  arm  at 
length  grew  heavy;  and  Everell,  who  on  his  side 
used  a  concentration  of  faculties  worthy  of  the  issue 

308 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

at  stake,  found  opening  for  a  lunge  that  pinked  the 
other's  forearm,  causing  him  to  lower  his  hand 
with  a  cry  of  chagrin.  The  next  instant  the  young 
man  struck  the  weapon  from  Foxwell's  weakened 
grasp,  sending  it  flying  to  the  door;  which  at  that 
moment  opened,  letting  in  two  men  who  walked  arm 
in  arm  and  bawled  a  bacchanalian  song. 

From  their  dress  and  appearance,  it  was  evident 
that  these  newcomers  were  Mr.  Thornby's  table 
companions,  doubtless  come  in  search  of  him.  One 
of  them,  a  short,  heavy-set  person  with  a  wig  awry, 
was  plainly  very  drunk  indeed.  The  other,  a  slim, 
prudent-looking  fellow,  seemed  in  good  command 
of  his  senses.  This  man,  having  nearly  tripped  over 
the  sword,  picked  it  up,  and  looked  with  astonish- 
ment at  those  in  the  room. 

"Eh!"  he  exclaimed.  "My  Jacobite,  by  all 
that's  holy!  Here's  providential  work!  Call  your 
men,  Mr.  Potkin." 

The  stout  little  man  pulled  himself  together, 
blinked  at  Everell,  and  then  bolted  from  the  room. 
"  The  justice's  clerk,  gone  to  bring  varlets  of  the 
law,"  thought  Everell,  who  stood  regaining  his 
breath.  Foxwell  withdrew  panting  to  the  other  side 
of  the  table,  dropped  into  Thornby's  chair,  and 
began  pulling  up  his  sleeve  to  examine  his  wound. 
Filson  put  himself  on  guard  with  the  sword  before 

309 


THE    FLIGHT   OF    GEORGIANA 

the  doorway,  with  the  manifest  intention  of  dis- 
puting Everett's  escape  from  the  room  till  help 
should  come.  Perhaps  the  courage  of  wine,  the 
excitement  of  beholding  his  quarry  at  last,  or  the 
sight  of  Everell's  winded  condition,  emboldened  the 
man:  at  any  rate,  he  showed  resolution,  and  his 
manner  with  the  sword  was  that  of  some  practice 
in  fencing  —  not  a  surprising  thing  at  a  time  when 
gentlemen's  gentlemen  imitated  the  accomplishments 
of  their  masters. 

"  What !  you  menace  me !  "  cried  Everell ;  "  then 
be  careful  of  your  other  ear,  hound ! "  With  this 
he  rushed  upon  Filson,  thrusting  along  the  side  of 
the  latter's  head,  and  running  the  point  through  the 
wig,  though  not  touching  the  ear. 

Filson  turned  pale,  but  made  a  pass,  which  was 
narrowly  avoided.  Everell  gave  a  second  lunge, 
and  this  time  the  weapon  pierced  the  somewhat 
extended  auricular  shell. 

"Help!  help,  Mr.  Foxwell!"  shouted  Filson, 
clapping  one  hand  to  the  injured  ear,  but  still  wield- 
ing his  sword  against  Everell. 

"  Call  for  help  to  those  who  buy  letters  from 
you,  cur,"  replied  Foxwell,  scarce  looking  up  from 
his  task  of  binding  his  arm  with  a  handkerchief, 
a  business  performed  by  his  left  hand  with  the  aid 
of  his  teeth.  Georgiana  had  looked  an  offer  of 

310 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

assistance,  which  her  uncle  had  repelled.  Her  at- 
tention instantly  returned  to  her  lover. 

On  hearing  Foxwell's  answer,  Filson  shrank 
back;  but  Everell  pressed  him  close,  parried  a  des- 
perate lunge,  and  sent  a  swift  long  thrust  for  the 
region  of  the  heart.  Filson  dropped  like  a  log,  and 
lay  as  still  as  one,  a  result  somewhat  unexpected 
by  Everell,  to  whom  the  resistance  had  seemed  only 
that  of  the  man's  loose  coat. 

"  Come ! "  cried  Everell,  and,  while  Georgiana 
hastened  to  his  side,  he  added  to  her  uncle :  "  All 
that  I  said  awhile  ago  still  holds  true.  I  wish  you 
good  night."  He  then  led  Georgiana  around  the 
prostrate  body  of  Filson,  and  through  the  doorway. 
Just  outside  in  the  hallway  stood  Joseph  and  the 
footman,  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  noise  to 
peer  into  the  room,  which  as  yet  they  dared  not  re- 
enter.  Everell  waved  them  aside  with  his  sword, 
and  the  lovers  quickly  passed.  The  two  men,  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  again  looked  into  the  room, 
Joseph  expectant  of  his  master's  orders,  and 
the  footman  wondering  at  the  disappearance  of 
Thornby.  Nobody  else  was  in  the  hall,  and  Everell 
and  Georgiana  were  in  a  moment  at  the  door  oppo- 
site that  by  which  they  had  entered  the  house.  It 
was  not  fastened.  Throwing  it  open,  Everell  found 
that  he  was  right  in  what,  from  his  present  knowl- 

311 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

edge  of  the  roads  and  gates,  he  had  assumed,  — 
namely,  that  Foxwell's  horses  were  waiting  at  this 
entrance.  They  were  in  charge  of  a  boy  who  evi- 
dently belonged  to  Thornby  Hall,  perhaps  to  the 
gate-lodge.  On  the  door-step  was  a  lantern. 

Everell  sheathed  his  sword,  and  said,  quietly,  to 
the  boy:  "  We  are  to  use  Mr.  Foxwell's  horses, 
my  good  lad."  He  coolly  helped  Georgiana  into  the 
saddle,  mounted  the  other  horse,  and  bade  the  boy 
hand  him  the  lantern.  The  lad,  ignorant  of  Fox- 
well's  purposes  and  of  the  fighting  in  the  house, 
and  obedient  by  habit,  complied.  "  Now  run  be- 
fore, and  you  shall  receive  a  crown  at  the  gate," 
said  Everell,  grasping  Georgiana's  rein  and  his 
own.  He  was  at  the  same  time  wondering  to  what 
part  of  the  house  or  vicinity  the  clerk  had  gone  for 
his  forces.  He  trusted  that  Foxwell  would  now  see 
his  interest  in  passively  aiding  the  flight,  and  would 
find  means  to  keep  Joseph  and  Thornby's  servant 
from  interfering  or  giving  alarm. 

In  this  he  was  not  deceived.  Foxwell  saw  all 
chance  gone  of  obtaining  the  letter  by  force  of  his 
own;  and  now  feared  that,  if  taken  by  Thornby's 
men,  Everell  would  rather  entrust  it  to  them  than 
suffer  Foxwell  to  possess  it  after  what  had  occurred. 

Foxwell,  therefore,  upon  noticing  the  two  serv- 
ants at  the  doorway,  called  Joseph  to  assist  in  bind- 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

ing  his  wound.  He  then  assigned  the  footman  to 
the  impossible  task  of  prizing  open  the  door  of 
Thornby's  prison  with  a  poker.  This  apparent  con- 
cern for  Thornby's  comfort  was  partly  for  the 
future  conciliation  of  that  gentleman;  and  Foxwell 
intended  to  employ  his  wound  to  the  same  end,  on 
the  ground  that  he  had  received  it  in  the  Squire's 
interest.  As  he  sat  thinking  the  matter  out,  and 
watching  Joseph's  bungling  attempts  to  fasten  a 
bandage,  Foxwell  heard  a  loud  tramping,  as  of  sev- 
eral heavy  feet,  in  the  hall. 

"  The  men  whom  the  clerk  went  to  fetch," 
thought  he;  and,  without  turning  his  head,  con- 
sidered how  he  might  delay  them  with  perfect  safety 
to  himself.  But,  just  as  they  seemed  about  to  enter 
the  room,  there  was  a  brief  pause  in  their  move- 
ments ;  and  then  they  were  heard  rushing  away  and 
out  of  the  hall.  It  was  as  if  they  had  learned  at 
the  very  threshold  that  the  person  they  sought  was 
gone  elsewhere.  Foxwell  turned  his  eyes  upon  the 
doorway,  near  which  Filson  had  fallen.  To  his 
amazement,  the  body  of  that  rascal  was  not  to  be 
seen.  This  enabled  Foxwell  to  account  for  the 
movements  of  the  justice's  men :  the  knave  had  yet 
life  enough  to  crawl  out  and  indicate  the  way  the 
fugitive  had  taken.  The  trampling  of  the  men  in 
the  hall,  the  footman's  noise  with  the  poker,  and 

313 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

certain  incoherent  words  of  inquiry  and  command 
which  Thornby  had  begun  to  shout  from  his  closet, 
had  covered  the  sound  of  Filson's  exit. 

Meanwhile,  Everell  and  Georgiana  had  ridden 
down  a  driveway  of  considerable  length,  following 
close  upon  the  heels  of  the  boy,  whom  the  lantern 
enabled  them  to  keep  in  sight.  The  gate  had  swung 
to  after  Foxwell's  entrance.  As  the  lad  went  to 
open  it,  and  Everell  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  for 
the  promised  crown,  there  came  a  noise  of  men 
issuing  from  the  house  they  had  left,  followed  by 
a  cry :  "  Stop  them !  gate,  ho !  let  nobody  pass !  " 

The  boy  gave  a  startled  look  at  the  riders,  and 
stood  hesitating.  Everell,  who  had  been  holding  the 
lantern  high  so  as  to  see  the  way,  quickly  handed 
it  to  Georgiana;  drew  one  of  the  pistols  from  his 
pocket,  pointed  it  at  the  lad's  head,  and,  at  the  same 
time  offering  the  crown  piece  with  his  left  hand, 
said :  "  Lead  or  silver,  which  ?  " 

The  boy,  whose  mind  had  probably  never  worked 
so  rapidly  in  his  life  before,  flung  the  gate  open. 
Men  were  now  heard  running  toward  them  from 
the  top  of  the  driveway.  Everell  threw  the  coin  at 
the  boy,  and  the  horses  dashed  forward.  Once  in 
the  road,  the  lovers  turned  to  the  right,  thus  aiming 
for  the  town  wherein  they  had  first  met.  Everell 
put  away  the  pistol,  but  allowed  Georgiana,  at  her 

314. 


"  THE    HORSES    DASHED    FORWARD. 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

own  suggestion,  to  retain  possession  of  the  lantern, 
that  he  might  be  the  readier  with  his  weapons, 
should  occasion  arise.  Of  this  there  was  not  much 
immediate  likelihood,  for,  now  that  the  gate  was 
passed,  Thornby's  men  must  needs  resort  to  horses 
if  they  meant  to  give  chase. 

"  Do  you  ride  well,  sweet  ?  "  Everell  called  to 
Georgiana,  as  they  galloped  along  the  road. 

"  Well  enough,"  she  replied,  as  cheerily  as  she 
could. 

He  now  observed,  for  the  first  time,  that  she  was 
riding  man-fashion ;  his  cloak,  which  she  still  wore, 
enabling  her  to  do  so  with  less  loss  in  appearance 
than  addition  of  safety. 

"  You  will  not  soon  forget  the  night  of  your 
abduction,"  said  he,  gaily. 

She  reminded  him  it  was  no  longer  an  abduction, 
but  a  flight  on  her  part  as  well  as  his.  And  both 
of  them,  though  they  said  nothing,  wondered  what 
would  be  the  end  of  it. 


315 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

HORSES 

AFTER  a  mile  or  so,  the  riders  slackened  speed, 
and  kept  an  easy  pace  thereafter  till  they  were  near 
the  town.  Two  or  three  times  they  had  made  a 
momentary  halt  to  listen,  but  had  heard  nothing  to 
indicate  that  they  were  followed.  Everell  had  fre- 
quently asked  Georgiana  how  she  did,  and  she  had 
declared,  "  Very  well."  He  now  inquired  whether 
she  could  travel  much  farther  without  stopping  to 
rest,  and  begged  her  to  be  perfectly  honest  in  her 
reply.  She  assured  him  she  was  equal  to  a  dozen 
miles,  at  least. 

"  Then  it  is  a  question,"  said  he,  "  whether  we 
should  stay  a  few  hours  at  the  place  we  are  coming 
to,  or  go  on  to  the  next  town  southward.  I  con- 
ceive we  have  naught  to  fear  from  your  uncle.  As 
for  Thornby,  I  know  not.  He  may  desire  that 
nothing  of  all  this  shall  become  known;  on  the 
other  hand,  his  wrath  may  outweigh  his  vanity, 
not  likely  his  men  would  give  chase  so  far 
316 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

without  his  commands.  The  clerk  would  certainly 
go  to  consult  him  before  ordering  a  long  pursuit, 
and  Thornby's  first  care  would  be  to  get  himself 
liberated  from  the  closet.  No  doubt  all  depends 
on  his  state  of  feeling  at  that  moment.  Were 
Jeremiah  Filson  still  a  factor  in  the  case,  I  should 
count  on  pursuit.  Men  of  that  persistent  sort,  hav- 
ing once  set  themselves  a  task,  are  not  to  be  thrown 
off,  however  slight  be  the  gain  or  the  motive.  They 
know  how  to  make  such  as  Thornby  the  servants 
of  their  wills.  But  without  Filson's  egging  on,  I 
doubt  if  Thornby  or  his  clerk  will  give  themselves 
much  trouble  concerning  us.  Your  uncle,  I  think, 
will  find  means  to  dissuade  them.  In  any  case,  we 
have  a  fair  start,  so  that  if  you  feel  the  least  fatigue 
or  discomfort,  sweet,  —  And  yet,  'twould  go  hard 
to  lose  all,  after  coming  off  so  well  hitherto.  Cer- 
tainly Thornby  will  be  in  a  great  fury :  —  to  be 
locked  in  his  own  closet,  after  being  robbed  of 
you  and  of  his  power  over  your  uncle!  At  first 
he  will  be  for  revenge  at  any  cost.  And  who  knows 
but  he  may  linger  in  that  mind?  He  may  make  it 
a  great  matter,  inform  the  sheriff  of  the  county, 
and  raise  a  general  hue  and  cry.  'Tis  a  possibility 
we  must  reckon  with.  Our  only  security  against 
it  is  a  long  start  at  the  outset.  And  yet  you've 
already  undergone  too  much  to-night.  Perhaps  two 

317 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

or  three  hours  of  rest  —  But,  devil  take  it,  Filson 
has  been  at  this  town !  —  'twas  here  you  warned  me 
of  him.  No  doubt  he  has  left  accounts  of  me.  I 

• 

may  be  recognized  if  I  show  my  face  at  any  house. 
But,  if  we  pass  through  the  town  in  this  dark- 
ness —  " 

He  was  going  on  to  consider  the  alternatives 
further,  but  Georgiana,  having  waited  in  vain  for 
a  pause,  now  interrupted  with  the  most  positive 
assertion  that  she  would  not  think  of  stopping  at 
the  town  they  were  about  to  enter.  So  they  walked 
their  horses  through  such  of  its  narrow  streets  as 
lay  in  their  route,  and  were  soon  upon  the  open 
road  again,  having  encountered  no  light  nor  other 
sign  of  life.  They  improved  their  speed,  and,  hav- 
ing passed  the  spot  where  Everell  had  taken  leave 
of  Roughwood  a  fortnight  before,  —  though  its 
location  could  not  be  certified  in  the  darkness,  — 
arrived  at  another  town  of  silent  streets  wherein 
no  lamp  or  candle  relieved  the  night.  By  their 
own  lantern,  the  lovers  were  enabled  to  inspect  the 
house-fronts,  and  to  select  what  appeared  to  be  the 
chief  inn  of  the  place.  After  much  imperative  call- 
ing for  the  landlord,  Everell  was  answered  by  a 
half-dressed  man,  of  whom  he  demanded  accommo- 
dations in  the  tone  of  authority  that  had  imposed 
upon  the  servants  at  Thornby  Hall.  Here,  as  there, 

318 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

it  availed,  and,  as  soon  as  the  travellers  were  ad- 
mitted, Everell  curtly  explained  that  the  lady  had 
met  with  an  accident;  he  added,  carelessly,  that 
they  had  come  from  the  South. 

The  half-dressed  man  proving  to  be  the  landlord, 
Everell  bespoke  a  chaise  and  fresh  horses  for  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning;  and,  as  there  was  only 
one  sleeping-room  available,  saw  Georgiana  con- 
ducted thereto;  after  which  he  made  his  own  bed, 
with  the  aid  of  his  cloak,  on  a  settle  in  the  bar- 
parlour.  He  passed  the  night  in  a  half-sleep,  ready 
to  take  alarm  at  any  sound  of  later  arrivals.  In 
the  morning,  when  the  time  set  for  departure  was 
near,  he  summoned  a  maid  and  was  about  to  send 
her  to  Georgiana,  when  that  lady  herself  appeared 
on  the  stairs.  She  was  quite  ready  to  travel,  hav- 
ing interviewed  the  innkeeper's  wife,  and  acquired 
a  hat,  a  mantle,  and  some  other  articles,  all  in  a 
fair  state  of  preservation,  in  exchange  for  one  of 
her  rings. 

Everell  complimented  her  upon  this  timely  regard 
for  appearances  while  travelling  by  daylight,  and 
declared  that  no  other  woman  in  England  could 
look  as  well  in  the  costliest  finery  as  Georgiana  did 
in  the  second-hand  wardrobe  of  a  country  landlady. 
Georgiana  was  pleased  at  this;  but  not  entirely  so, 
until  he  added  that  she  should  supply  herself  in 

319 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

better  accordance  with  her  own  taste  at  the  first 
opportunity.  He  then  handed  her  into  the  chaise, 
entrusted  to  the  landlord  the  despatching  of  the 
horses  and  pistols  to  Foxwell,  and  gave  directions 
to  the  postilion.  Hearing  these,  the  innkeeper  was 
much  puzzled,  for  Everell  had  designedly  given  him 
the  impression  that  the  journey  of  the  couple  was 
Northward.  Ere  he  could  scratch  a  probable  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  into  his  head,  the  chaise  was 
rattling  away. 

The  freshness  of  the  morning  had  its  effect  upon 
the  lovers  at  first;  but  Everell  soon  perceived  that 
Georgiana  was  pale  and  languid.  He  urged  her  to 
try  to  sleep,  and  offered  his  shoulder  as  a  pillow. 
She,  on  her  side,  observed  that  his  voice  was  quite 
hoarse,  and  insisted  upon  arranging  his  cloak  so 
that  he,  too,  could  rest.  Presently,  in  spite  of  her- 
self, her  eyes  closed.  He  pillowed  her  head  as  he 
had  suggested,  and  softly  kissed  her  hair.  The 
next  fact  of  which  he  was  distinctly  conscious  was 
that  the  chaise  had  stopped  before  a  roadside  inn, 
and  the  postilion  was  telling  him  that  here  was  a 
good  place  at  which  to  breakfast.  Glad  to  find,  on 
inquiry,  how  many  hours  and  miles  they  had  got 
rid  of  in  sleep,  Everell  awakened  Georgiana,  and 
they  were  regaled  with  bread,  cheese,  and  fried 


320 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

bacon.     They  were  now  quite  cured  of  fatigue, 
though  Everell's  hoarseness  was  increased. 

The  journey  was  resumed.  A  few  towns  and  many 
villages  were  left  behind.  Finally,  at  the  end  of  a 
stage,  Everell  thought  the  time  of  changing  horses 
might  safely  be  utilized  in  visiting  some  shops  near 
the  posting-inn.  When  the  travellers  returned  with 
their  purchases,  their  new  conveyance  was  ready. 
They  set  out  immediately,  putting  off  dinner  to  the 
late  afternoon  rather  than  make  a  longer  stop  at 
present.  As  they  drove  out  of  the  yard  into  the 
street,  Georgiana  uttered  a  quick  "  Oh !  "  and  drew 
back  from  the  chaise  window,  at  the  same  time  lay- 
ing her  hand  on  Everell's  breast  to  make  him  do 
likewise. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"The  man  on  horseback,"  she  replied;  "don't 
look  out !  'Tis  Jeremiah  Filson !  " 

"  Impossible !  I  left  him  as  good  as  dead.  You 
are  mistaken,  sweet.  How  could  you  know  him? 
—  you  have  scarcely  seen  him." 

"  I  saw  him  well  enough  at  Thornby  Hall  last 
night ;  and  this  I  am  certain  was  he.  He  was  rid- 
ing up  the  street ;  there  was  another  horseman  with 
him.  He  looked  tired,  and  the  horses  seemed 
fagged.  'Twas  he,  I  could  swear,  —  the  same 
clothes." 

321 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

"  Then  the  dog  must  have  feigned,  last  night, 
to  save  himself  from  a  coup  de  grace.  Did  he  see 
us,  I  wonder?" 

"  He  didn't  appear  to.  He  was  looking  at  the 
houses,  I  thought.'-* 

"  Looking  for  the  inn,  probably.  Well,  if  he 
stops  there,  he  will  inquire  for  us.  If  not,  he  is 
close  behind  us.  In  either  case,  he  is  on  our  track. 
Thank  heaven,  we  are  almost  out  of  the  town/' 
—  The  new  postilion,  as  soon  as  the  chaise  was  safe 
in  the  street,  had  whipped  up  his  horses  to  a  gallop, 
in  order  to  make  the  showy  start  affected  by  artists 
in  his  craft.  —  "  Filson's  experience  last  night  has 
given  him  a  respect  for  my  sword,"  Everell  went 
on;  "he  will  not  dare  come  within  reach  of  it 
himself.  I  at  least  pinked  his  other  ear,  as  I  prom- 
ised to.  He  will  now  act  with  caution ;  will  attempt 
to  hunt  me  down  without  showing  himself,  and,  if 
he  finds  me  tarrying  anywhere,  will  apply  to  the 
local  authorities.  He  will  be  no  less  dangerous  for 
proceeding  in  that  way  —  he  will  be  the  more  so, 
rather.  We  shall  not  dare  stop  long  anywhere.  We 
had  best  take  our  meals  at  solitary  country  inns, 
where  he  cannot  come  up  unperceived,  nor  set  the 
authorities  upon  me  without  time  and  trouble.  We 
must  travel  night  and  day  till  we  are  safe :  to  sleep 
at  an  inn  would  give  him  his  opportunity.  I  see 

322 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

'tis  possible  for  you  to  sleep  as  we  go.  So  then, 
barring  accident,  we  shall  doubtless  keep  our  lead 
to  the  end,  if  he  hangs  on  so  far." 

"  But  if  we  are  delayed  at  the  posting-houses?  " 
said  Georgiana.  "  Sometimes  one  cannot  get  horses 
immediately." 

"  Ay,  there  is  one  danger,"  Everell  replied.  "  But 
we  must  gain  such  a  distance  that  we  may  lose  time 
and  yet  be  away  before  he  can  steal  upon  us;  or 
at  least  before  he  can  bring  officers  about  us.  We 
must  not  tarry  long  in  a  garrison  town.  Military 
officers  would  be  too  ready  to  act  upon  information 
in  such  a  case  as  mine.  He  cannot  get  the  civil 
powers  to  move  so  quickly.  Well,  we  must  keep 
our  lead.  In  the  country  he  will  not  venture  too 
close  upon  our  heels.  We  are  out  of  the  town,  at 
last.  I  wonder  if  he  stopped  at  that  inn." 

Everell  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  side  window 
and  looked  back.  Nobody  was  following.  He  then 
called  to  the  driver,  and  gave  instructions  in  regard 
to  the  pace  of  travel,  hinting  at  the  reward  in  store 
for  obedience.  The  lad  was  so  compliant,  the  horses 
so  fresh,  that  in  due  time  Everell  thought  a  pause 
might  be  made  for  dinner  without  much  risk  of 
their  being  overtaken.  At  the  next  suitable  house 
of  refreshment  he  ordered  a  halt,  somewhat  to  the 
disapproval  of  the  postilion,  who  would  have  pre- 
323 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ferred  to  stop  at  an  inn  of  his  own  suggesting-. 
Everell  chose  this,  however,  because  it  had  as  neigh- 
bours only  two  or  three  brick  houses  and  a  half- 
dozen  thatched  cottages,  all  looking  drowsy  behind 
ragged  hedges,  while  its  chief  window  commanded 
a  view  of  the  road  over  which  the  fugitives  had 
come. 

They  caused  a  table  to  be  placed  at  the  window, 
and  there,  on  a  soiled  cloth,  were  served  with  boiled 
eggs,  cold  bacon,  and  bread,  by  the  frowsy  woman 
who  had  taken  the  order,  set  the  table,  and  done 
the  cooking.  But  the  eggs  were  fresh,  and  the 
bacon  good,  so  that  little  was  left  on  the  table  when 
the  travellers  rose  from  it.  The  postilion  had 
evidently  found  the  ale,  bread,  and  cheese  better 
than  he  had  expected;  and  the  horses  apparently 
had  nothing  to  complain  of  in  their  refreshment.  At 
all  events,  the  journey  was  resumed  in  good  spirits, 
and,  as  no  sign  of  Filson  had  appeared  upon  the 
stretch  of  road  in  sight,  the  lovers  began  to  feel 
more  secure.  Georgiana  now  recalled  Filson's  jaded 
appearance.  Perhaps,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  he 
had  yielded  to  the  dictates  of  tired  nature :  perhaps 
he  had  thrown  over  the  pursuit,  and  was  merely 
bound  for  London.  As  for  the  horseman  with  him, 
that  might  have  been  a  postboy  or  a  casual  fellow 
traveller.  While  their  own  chaise  went  rolling 

324 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

along  at  good  speed,  the  lovers  felt  hope  increase 
within  them.  Nevertheless,  they  were  still  deter- 
mined to  go  on  by  night. 

Dusk  had  risen  —  or,  rather,  fallen,  to  be 
accurate  in  spite  of  the  poets  —  when  they  arrived 
at  the  place  where  they  would  have  to  obtain  the 
horses  and  vehicle  for  their  night  journey.  It  was 
a  small  town,  with  a  High  Street  enlivened  by  the 
humbler  inhabitants  strolling  up  and  down  in  the 
light  from  the  shop  windows.  A  lamp  hung  over 
the  entrance  to  the  principal  inn.  As  soon  as  the 
chaise  was  in  the  yard,  Everell  called  for  a  fresh 
conveyance. 

The  landlord  was  very  sorry,  but  there  were  no 
horses.  How  soon  would  there  be  any?  Certainly 
not  that  night:  he  wouldn't  send  out  tired  cattle, 
not  for  love  or  money.  Would  there  be  a  stage- 
coach, or  even  a  carrier's  wagon?  Not  before 
morning.  Everell  turned  to  the  postilion,  who  was 
now  busy  with  his  own  fagged  horses.  No,  sir; 
this  was  as  far  as  he  dared  go :  he  knew  his  orders ; 
his  cattle  were  done  for,  and  he  was  done  for,  and 
he  wouldn't  let  his  beasts  go  another  mile,  not  for 
love  or  money  or  the  King  himself. 

"  Mind  how  you  speak  of  the  King,  booby,"  a 
voice  broke  in,  pertly ;  and  Everell,  looking  around, 


325 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

saw  three  or  four  trim  young  fellows  at  the  tap- 
room door,  all  in  red  coats. 

"  Soldiers  in  town  ?  "  said  Everell  to  the  landlord. 

"  Yes,  your  Honour ;  two  companies  waiting 
orders.  You'd  'a'  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the 
officers  at  dinner  if  you'd  come  a  little  sooner,  but 
now  they  be  all  gone  to  a  ball  at  a  gentleman's  house 
in  the  neighbourhood.  Most  of  them  lodge  here; 
but  I  have  a  very  good  room  left,  at  your  Honour's 
service." 

"  I  don't  want  a  room.  I  want  horses.  Where 
can  I  get  them?  Is  there  no  other  place  in  the 
town?" 

The  landlord  shook  his  head  sadly;  but  one  of 
the  soldiers  said :  "  There's  a  house  across  the  way, 
sir,  —  the  Red  Swan.  I'm  not  sure  you  can  get 
horses  there,  but  'tis  there  or  nowhere  if  this  house 
can't  supply  them." 

Everell  thanked  the  man,  pressed  a  shilling  into 
his  hand,  settled  with  his  own  postilion,  and  had 
his  luggage  carried  before  himself  and  Georgiana 
to  the  Red  Swan.  This  was  a  smaller  house  than 
the  one  they  had  left.  It  had  no  driveway  through 
the  middle;  the  entrance  to  the  yard  was  by  a  side 
lane.  The  travellers,  entering  by  the  front  door, 
found  a  corridor  leading  to  the  bar  —  and  to  the 
landlady.  Could  one  hire  horses  and  some  sort  of 

326 


THE   FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

light  vehicle?  Yes,  to  be  sure;  but  not  that  night: 
all  the  horses  and  carriages  in  the  town  were  taking 
people  to  the  ball  a  few  miles  out.  Everell  looked 
blankly  at  Georgiana.  The  landlady  could  offer  his 
Honour  the  best  rooms  in  the  house.  On  the  morrow 
there  would  be  horses  a-plenty.  They  would  be 
returning  from  the  ball  by  midnight. 

"  Ah,  then,  if  we  wait  till  midnight,  we  may  have 
the  first  horses  that  come  in  ?  "  said  Everell. 

The  landlady  was  not  sure.  She  would  have  to 
ask  John,  who  was  now  driving  to  the  ball.  When 
he  returned  with  his  horses,  he  might  be  willing; 
the  cattle  would  be  fresh  enough,  but  John  might 
not  be.  At  this,  Everell  spoke  so  eloquently,  despite 
his  hoarseness,  of  rewards  and  of  his  confidence  in 
the  landlady's  ability  to  influence  John  if  she  would, 
and  Georgiana  supported  him  with  such  sweetly 
anxious  looks,  that  the  good  woman  thought  she 
could  almost  certainly  promise  a  conveyance  and 
John's  attendance  at  midnight  or  thereabouts.  As 
for  the  intervening  time,  it  was  decided  that  Geor- 
giana should  lie  down  dressed,  while  Everell  should 
remain  on  the  alert.  He  saw  her  to  the  door  of 
a  room  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  returned  to 
caution  the  landlady  against  acknowledging  their 
presence  to  possible  inquirers.  He  relied  on  the 
woman's  good-will  and  evident  belief  that  they  were 

327 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

an  eloping  pair  fearful  only  of  parental  discovery. 
He  then  went  by  a  rear  door  to  stretch  his  legs  in 
the  inn  yard,  which  he  thought  to  find  deserted. 

The  yard  was  for  the  most  part  in  darkness,  its 
only  light  being  that  of  a  lantern  hung  against  the 
gate-post.  To  Everell's  surprise,  a  pair  of  horses 
attached  to  a  post-chaise  were  feeding  under  the 
care  of  a  small  boy.  Everell  was  promptly  in- 
quisitive, but  the  undersized  hostler  had  no  gift  of 
communication,  and  could  say  no  more  than  that 
the  chaise  had  arrived  awhile  ago  and  would  be 
going  on  pretty  soon.  Everell  returned  to  the  land- 
lady. 

"  Oh,  ay,"  she  said,  in  reply  to  his  remark  about 
the  horses.  "  They  belong  to  a  gentleman  with  a 
toothache,  who  stops  only  long  enough  for  supper." 

"  You  didn't  mention  him  before." 

"  Why,  sir,  from  his  coming  to  this  house  instead 
of  t'other,  and  from  his  ordering  a  private  room  to 
sup  in,  I  took  it  he'd  rather  nothing  was  said  of  his 
being  here.  But,  come  to  think  of  it,  he  might  want 
to  keep  out  of  sight  because  of  his  face  being 
swollen  up  —  'tis  all  tied  round  with  a  yanker- 
chief.  Yet  that  wouldn't  account  for  his  having 
his  postilion  eat  in  the  same  room  with  him,  would 
it,  sir?  It  looks  as  how  he  was  afeard  the  man 
would  say  too  much  if  let  eat  in  the  kitching.  Well, 

328 


THE    FLIGHT    OF   GEORGIANA 

I  hope  as  I've  done  him  no  harm  by  what  I've  told 
your  Honour." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  wish  I  had  his  horses.  I 
would  even  accept  his  toothache,  if  I  could  have 
the  horses  with  it." 

He  entered  the  small  public  parlour,  and  dropped 
into  a  chair  at  the  head  of  the  long  table.  He  had 
the  room  to  himself,  and  could  flee  to  the  darkness 
of  the  yard  if  anybody  intruded.  Leaning  forward 
with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  he  lapsed  into  a  drowsy 
state  which  seemed,  in  the  circumstances,  the  state 
best  calculated  to  cheat  the  time.  He  had  remained 
therein  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  when  his  ears, 
on  the  alert,  informed  him  of  a  soft  step  outside 
the  room.  He  rose,  and  beheld  Georgiana  in  the 
half -open  doorway.  Finger  on  lip,  she  approached 
and  whispered : 

"  I  have  seen  him.  I  think  he  knows  we  arc 
here." 

"Who?"  asked  Everell. 

"  Filson.  I  happened  to  look  out  of  my  win- 
dow —  " 

"  Impossible !  He  couldn't  have  followed  so 
close." 

"  He  must  have  gained  upon  us  toward  nightfall, 
and  arrived  at  the  inn  across  the  way  a  little  while 
ago.  I  happened  to  glance  out  of  my  window  just 

329 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

now  —  not  putting  my  head  out,  but  looking 
through  the  glass  —  and  I  saw  four  men  standing 
under  the  lamp  before  that  inn  —  the  lamp  over  the 
entrance.  Three  of  them  were  the  soldiers  we  saw 
in  the  yard.  The  other  was  Filson.  He  was  talking 
with  the  soldiers,  and  he  and  they  were  looking  at 
tnis  house.  I  am  sure  they  were  telling  him  we 
had  come  here." 

"Did  they  see  you?" 

"  I  think  not.  They  weren't  looking  at  nay  win- 
dow when  I  first  saw  them,  and  after  that  I  watched 
from  behind  the  curtain." 

"  Well,  then,  he  knows  we  are  here.  The  fellow 
who  carried  our  luggage  across  would  have  told 
the  soldiers  we  failed  to  get  horses.  I  should  have 
taken  some  pains  to  cover  our  track.  We  are  too 
easily  described.  I  might  have  known  Filson  would 
inquire  before  even  entering  the  inn;  his  fear  of 
coming  suddenly  within  reach  of  my  sword  would 
make  him  do  that.  Well,  the  evil  is  done.  What 
steps  will  the  fellow  take?  —  that  is  the  question. 
Fortunately,  those  soldiers  can  do  nothing  without 
orders,  and  their  officers  have  gone  to  the  ball." 

"  But  hear  me  through,"  said  Georgiana.  "  After 
fhey  had  talked  a  minute  or  so,  Filson  and  one  of 
the  soldiers  walked  up  the  street,  so  fast  that  I  soon 
lost  sight  of  them.  The  other  two  soldiers  re- 

330 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

mained  —  to  watch  this  house,  perhaps.  And  then 
I  came  to  tell  you." 

"  H'm !  Without  doubt  Filson  has  gone  in  quest 
of  somebody  in  authority.  We  must  begone  from 
this  house,  at  all  events.  Filson  may  return  —  who 
knows  how  soon?  —  may  return  with  a  gang  of 
constables  or  a  file  of  soldiers.  Come,  we  must 
leave  this  inn,  at  least." 

"  But  those  two  are  watching :  they  will  see  us 
go." 

"  We'll  go  through  the  yard.  It  opens  to  a  lane, 
which  may  have  two  entrances  —  else  we  must  find 
some  back  way,  or  scale  a  wall,  if  need  be.  Come; 
I'll  see  the  landlady  as  we  go." 

"  Oh,  heaven !  In  the  passage  —  footsteps  —  of 
men!" 

Everell  listened  a  moment,  his  hand  on  his  sword- 
hilt.  "  Nay,  'tis  all  well.  Two  men  walking  from 
the  stairs  to  the  yard :  they  are  a  guest  and  his 
postilion.  'Tis  a  gentleman  with  a  toothache.  The 
landlady  has  been  telling  me  of  him.  I  would  to 
heaven  —  Ah,  perhaps  —  Come,  sweet !  come !  " 

Seizing  her  hand,  Everell  led  her  swiftly  from 
the  room,  along  the  passage,  and  through  a  back 
door,  to  the  yard. 

The  forms  of  the  strange  gentleman,  the  postilion, 
and  the  small  hostler  were  dimly  visible  at  the 

331 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

darker  side  of  the  chaise.  The  postilion  was  evi- 
dently about  to  light  his  lamps.  Everell  left  Georgi- 
ana  standing  in  a  shadowed  corner  by  the  house 
door,  and  advanced  to  the  other  gentleman,  keep- 
ing as  much  in  the  darkness  as  he.  The  stranger's 
head  presented  a  very  bulky  appearance,  thanks  not 
only  to  the  handkerchief  encircling  it,  but  also  to 
its  being  thickly  muffled  up  to  the  mouth.  His  hat, 
moreover,  was  drawn  down  to  his  eyes.  So,  indeed, 
was  Everett's. 

"  Sir,"  began  Everell,  inwardly  cursing  the 
hoarseness  that  prevented  a  more  ingratiating  tone, 
"  pardon  the  intrusion  of  one  who  means  no  offence. 
'Tis  a  matter  of  life  and  death  that  moves  me,  a 
stranger,  to  address  you  as  I  do.  There  is  also  a 
lady  whose  fortunes  are  at  stake.  'Tis  of  the  first 
importance  that  we  leave  this  place  immediately. 
We  have  not  been  able  to  obtain  horses.  Seeing  you 
about  to  depart  alone,  I  am  impelled  to  throw  myself 
on  your  generosity.  Will  you  take  us  as  passen- 
gers, to  the  next  town,  at  least?  If  you  will  take 
the  lady  in  the  chaise,  I  can  sit  on  the  bar  in  front. 
The  postilion  shall  be  well  rewarded." 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  the  other,  in  a  thick  voice, 
the  more  indistinct  from  his  much  muffled  condi- 
tion, "  if  you  are  travelling  in  my  direction  —  " 

"  Southward,"  said  Everell,  eagerly. 
332 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  I  am  sorry,  then,  for  I  am  going  North." 

"  North  ?  What  ill  fortune !  For  an  instant  I 
thought  myself  happy.  North !  —  but  surely,  sir, 
your  necessity  for  going  on  at  once  is  not  as  great 
as  ours :  it  cannot  be.  If  you  knew  the  case  —  the 
lady  is  waiting  yonder  in  the  darkness,  trembling 
with  anxiety  as  to  our  fate.  Our  whole  future,  sir, 
hangs  upon  the  next  few  minutes.  Dare  I  ask  you 
—  nay,  dare  I  refrain  from  asking  you  —  to  re- 
sign this  conveyance  to  us?  There  will  be  another 
available  at  midnight.  Your  business  certainly  is 
not  so  urgent." 

"  My  business,  sir,  is  as  urgent  as  any  can  be.  It 
has  the  first  claim  on  me,  much  as  I  would  fain 
serve  you.  I  dare  not  lose  an  hour." 

"  But,  good  heaven,  sir,  have  I  not  told  you  my 
affair  is  one  of  life  or  death?" 

"  And  so  is  mine,"  said  the  strange  gentleman, 
stepping  back  to  be  out  of  range  of  the  chaise-lamp, 
which  the  postilion  had  now  lighted. 

Everell  followed  into  the  darker  gloom,  pleading 
desperately :  "  But  consider,  sir,  my  case  concerns 
the  happiness  of  a  woman." 

"  Mine  concerns  the  safety  of  a  man." 

"  Good  God ! "  exclaimed  Everell,  maddened  at 
the  other's  phlegmatic  brevity  of  speech.  "  To  see 
these  horses  ready  for  the  road,  to  need  them  as 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

I  do,  to  know  how  she  must  suffer  if  I  —  Sir,  I 
entreat  you:  I  must  have  these  horses:  I  demand 
them  in  the  sacred  name  of  love." 

"  I  require  them  in  the  sacred  interest  of  friend- 
ship," was  the  answer. 

"  Friendship ! "  laughed  Everell,  scornfully. 
"  The  love  of  man  and  woman  —  do  you  know  what 
that  is?" 

"  None  knows  better ;  but  at  present  I  serve  the 
friendship  of  man  for  man.  One  task  at  a  time. 
Were  I  not  entered  upon  this,  I  would  do  much  to 
oblige  you.  I  can  only  wish  you  better  fortune  than 
you  expect;  and  —  good  night."  With  that  the 
stranger  went  toward  the  chaise,  all  being  now 
ready  for  departure. 

"  Not  yet  good  night,  either ! "  cried  Everell, 
stepping  into  the  other's  way.  "  'Tis  a  rude  thing 
I  do,  but  necessity  compels  me.  If  your  mission 
is  all  to  you,  mine  is  all  to  me.  Let  our  swords 
decide  for  us  —  I  see  you  wear  one." 

"  I  wear  one,"  said  the  gentleman,  patiently, 
"  but  I  had  rather  not  draw  it  now." 

"  You  had  rather  be  commanded,  then,"  said  Ev- 
erell, drawing  his  own.  "  You  have  a  toothache, 
I  hear.  A  gentleman  with  a  toothache  ought  not  to 
travel  at  night.  For  your  own  good,  I  must  forbid 
you." 

334. 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

"  And  you  have  a  bad  cold,  as  your  voice  betrays. 
A  gentleman  with  a  bad  cold  ought  still  less  to 
travel  at  night."  And  the  stranger  now  calmly 
drew.  "  Make  way,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  Stand  back,  sir,"  replied  Everell,  "  till  I  call  the 
lady  to  enter  the  chaise." 

The  stranger's  retort  to  this  was  a  sword-thrust 
at  Everell's  groin.  Though  the  men  were  in  too 
great  darkness  to  distinguish  faces,  a  certain  sense 
he  had  acquired  by  much  training  enabled  Everell 
to  parry  this  attack.  When  he  returned  the  thrust, 
his  adversary  showed  an  equal  instinct  for  judging 
the  movements  of  a  barely  visible  weapon.  Several 
passes  were  exchanged,  to  the  great  affright  of 
Georgiana,  who  could  only  make  out  the  moving 
forms  in  the  gloom  and  hear  the  clashing  of  the 
steel.  She  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  close  the 
house  door,  lest  the  sound  might  bring  other  specta- 
tors. As  for  the  postilion  and  the  boy,  they  stood 
astonished  at  a  safe  distance,  not  daring  to  raise  an 
alarm  for  fear  of  incurring  the  vengeance  of  the 
combatants.  The  fight  was  hot  and  equally  main- 
tained. Unexpectedly  Everell  struck  his  left  hand 
against  the  chaise  door.  For  greater  safety  of 
movement,  he  stepped  back  a  few  paces,  and  so 
came,  without  thought,  into  the  lamplight. 

The  other  gentleman,  in  the  act  of  following, 
335 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

uttered  a  cry  of  surprise,  and  held  his  sword  mo- 
tionless. The  voice  was  quite  different  from  that 
he  had  previously  used. 

"  Eh !  —  who  are  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Everell,  low- 
ering his  own  weapon. 

The  stranger  advanced  into  the  light,  pulling 
down  his  muffler. 

"  Roughwood !  "  cried  Everell,  springing  forward 
to  embrace  the  man  he  had  just  been  trying  to 
wound. 

"  H'sh !  "  warned  the  other,  cautious  as  ever. 

"  Good  heaven!  —  if  we  had  killed  each  other!  " 

"  We  should  have  been  served  right  for  not  know- 
ing each  other.  But  till  this  moment  I  didn't  rightly 
see  you.  Your  husky  voice  deceived  me :  I  should 
never  have  thought  it  your  voice." 

"  Tis  the  best  voice  I  can  muster  at  present.  But 
you  seem  to  have  two  voices." 

"  The  other  was  put  on  —  like  the  muffler,  hand- 
kerchief, and  toothache.  I  was  recognized  on  my 
way  South  after  leaving  you;  and  now,  coming 
back  through  the  same  country  —  " 

"  But  why  coming  back  ?  I  supposed  you  safe  in 
France." 

"  I  saw  her  whom  I  wished  to  see ;  but  I  could 
not  persuade  myself  to  sail  without  you,  or  knowl- 


336 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

edge  of  you.  As  days  passed  and  you  arrived  not  — 
In  short,  I  feared  your  rash  resolve  had  got  you  into 
trouble  —  " 

"  And  you  were  coming  to  my  aid !    Dear  Rough- 
wood  !  " 

"  But  we  lose  time.  You  spoke  of  a  lady." 
"  You  will  recognize  her,"  said  Everell,  and  ha- 
stened to  conduct  Georgiana  into  the  light.  Leaving 
her  and  Roughwood  to  mutual  surprise  and  expla- 
nation, he  returned  to  the  bar  of  the  inn,  and,  having 
overcome  the  landlady's  refusal  of  payment,  pos- 
sessed himself  of  his  and  Georgiana's  luggage. 
When  he  reappeared  in  the  yard,  his  friend  had 
already  handed  the  young  lady  into  the  chaise,  and 
was  giving  directions  to  the  postilion.  Everell  was 
for  Roughwood's  taking  the  place  beside  Georgiana, 
but  that  gentleman  cut  short  all  dispute  by  mount- 
ing the  bar  in  front  and  allowing  Everell  ten  seconds 
in  which  to  enter  the  chaise.  Before  less  time  had 
passed,  Everell  was  seated  at  his  Georgiana's  side, 
her  hand  was  stealing  into  his,  the  hostler  had  closed 
the  door  of  the  chaise,  and  the  postilion  had  given 
the  word  of  starting.  He  drove  carefully  out 
through  the  gate  with  the  solitary  lamp,  slowly  on 
through  the  lane  to  the  street,  and  then  for  the 
open  road  southward,  the  horses  getting  up  speed  at 
the  crack  of  the  whip. 

337 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   GEORGIANA 

"  And  so,  Jeremiah  Filson,"  said  Everell,  as  the 
lights  of  the  houses  ceased  and  the  night  lay  blue 
and  misty  over  the  fields,  "  we  have  left  you  behind 
once  more." 

Thanks  to  the  careful  arrangements  of  Rough- 
wood,  no  time  was  lost  on  the  rest  of  the  journey, 
day  or  night,  and  the  lovers  never  saw  Jeremiah 
Filson  again.  A  man  answering  to  his  description 
arrived  a  day  late  at  the  fishing  village  from  which 
they  had  set  sail ;  and  lingered  for  a  week  or  more, 
questioning  the  inhabitants,  and  often,  from  the 
highest  cliffs,  gazing  far  out  to  sea  with  a  puzzled 
expression.  This  they  learned  from  Roughwood's 
future  wife,  when  she  and  her  brother  came  to  them 
in  Paris. 

From  Prudence,  for  whom  Georgiana  sent  as 
soon  as  she  conveniently  could,  the  lovers  —  for 
lovers  they  remained  after  marriage  and  through 
life  —  heard  the  latest  news  of  Foxwell  Court  and 
Thornby  Hall.  Mr.  Foxwell  had  come  to  a  better 
understanding  with  his  neighbour  Thornby,  so  that 
the  pair  now  frequently  got  drunk  together  at  one 
or  the  other's  table;  they  spent  considerable  time 
at  cards,  with  results  apparently  to  Foxwell's  satis- 
faction; and  it  was  settled  that  he  should  lend  the 
distinction  of  his  presence  to  the  Squire's  approach- 


338 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    GEORGIANA 

ing  nuptials.  For  the  Squire,  as  if  to  show  the 
depth  of  disappointed  love  by  an  urgent  need  of 
consolation,  had  suddenly  —  and  successfully  — 
resolved  to  marry  Sukey  MarvelL 


THE   END. 


339 


L,  C.  page  and  Company's 
Hrmouncement  List 
of  ffcw  fiction 


The  Flight  of  Georgiana 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  DAYS  OF  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER.  By 
ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "  The  Bright  Face  of 
Danger,"  "An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  "The  Mystery  of 
Murray  Davenport,"  etc 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .  .  $1.50 
Mr.  Stephens's  novels  all  bear  the  hall-mark  of  success, 
for  his  men  are  always  live,  his  women  are  always  worthy  of 
their  cavaliers,  and  his  adventures  are  of  the  sort  to  stir  the 
most  sluggish  blood  without  overstepping  the  bounds  of  good 
taste. 

The  theme  of  the  new  novel  is  one  which  will  give  Mr. 
Stephens  splendid  scope  for  all  the  powers  at  his  command. 
The  career  of  "  Bonnie  Prince  Charlie  "  was  full  of  romance, 
intrigue,  and  adventure;  his  life  was  a  series  of  episodes  to 
delight  the  soul  of  a  reader  of  fiction,  and  Mr.  Stephens  is 
to  be  congratulated  for  his  selection  of  such  a  promising 
subject. 

Mrs.  Jim  and  Mrs.  Jimmie 

By  STEPHEN  CONRAD,  author  of  "The  Second  Mrs.  Jim." 
Library   I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .        .    $1.50 
This  new  book  is  in  a  sense  a  sequel  to  "  The  Second  Mrs. 
Jim,"  since  it  gives  further  glimpses  of  that  delightful  step- 
mother and  her  philosophy.     This  time,  however,  she  divides 
the  field  with  "  Mrs.  Jimmie,"  who  is  quite  as  attractive  in 
her  different  way.    The  book  has  more  plot  than  the  former 
volume,   a   little  less  philosophy  perhaps,   but  just  as  much 
wholesome   fun.     In  many  ways  it  is  a  stronger  book,  and 
will  therefore  take  an  even  firmer  hold  on  the  public. 

I 


L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY'S 


The  Story  of  Red  Fox 

Told  by  CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  The  Watchers 
of  the  Trails,"  "The  Kindred  of  the  Wild,"  "Barbara 
Ladd,"  etc. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  with  fifty  illustrations  and 
cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull  .  .  .  $2.00 

Mr.  Roberts's  reputation  as  a  scientifically  accurate  writer, 
whose  literary  skill  transforms  his  animal  stories  into  mas- 
terpieces, stands  unrivalled  in  his  particular  field. 

This  is  his  first  long  animal  story,  and  his  romance  of  Red 
Fox,  from  babyhood  to  patriarchal  old  age,  makes  reading 
more  fascinating  than  any  work  of  fiction.  In  his  hands  Red 
Fox  becomes  a  personality  so  strong  that  one  entirely  forgets 
he  is  an  animal,  and  his  haps  and  mishaps  grip  you  as  do 
those  of  a  person. 

Mr.  Bull,  as  usual,  fits  his  pictures  to  the  text  as  hand  to 
glove,  and  the  ensemble  becomes  a  book  as  near  perfection 
as  it  is  possible  to  attain. 


Return 

A  STORY  OF  THE  SEA  ISLANDS  IN  1739.  By  ALICE  MAC- 
GOWAN  and  GRACE  MACGOWAN  COOKE,  authors  of  "The 
Last  Word,"  etc.  With  six  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 
Library  i2mo,  cloth $1.50 

A  new  romance,  undoubtedly  the  best  work  yet  done  by 
Miss  MacGowan  and  Mrs.  Cooke.  The  heroine  of  "  Return," 
Diana  Chaters,  is  the  belle  of  the  Colonial  city  of  Charles 
Town,  S.  C.,  in  the  early  eighteenth  century,  and  the  hero 
is  a  young  Virginian  of  the  historical  family  of  Marshall. 
The  youth,  beauty,  and  wealth  of  the  fashionable  world,  which 
first  form  the  environment  of  the  romance,  are  pictured  in 
sharp  contrast  to  the  rude  and  exciting  life  of  the  frontier 
settlements  in  the  Georgia  Colony,  and  the  authors  have 
missed  no  opportunities  for  telling  characterizations.  But 
"  Return  "  is,  above  all,  a  love-story. 

We  quote  the  opinion  of  Prof.  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts,  who 
has  read  the  advance  sheets :  "  It  seems  to  me  a  story  of 
quite  unusual  strength  and  interest,  full  of  vitality  and 
crowded  with  telling  characters.  I  greatly  like  the  authors' 
firm,  bold  handling  of  their  subject." 


LIST   OF  NEW  FICTION 


Lady  Penelope 

By  MORLEY  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  Rachel  Marr,"  "  The  Pro- 
motion of  the  Admiral,"  etc.  With  nine  illustrations  by 
Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library    I2mo,    cloth $i-50 

Mr.  Roberts  certainly  has  versatility,  since  this  book  has 
not  a  single  point  of  similarity  with  either  "  Rachel  Marr " 
or  his  well-known  sea  stories.  Its  setting  is  the  English  so- 
called  "  upper  crust "  of  the  present  day.  Lady  Penelope  is 
quite  the  most  up-to-date  young  lady  imaginable  and  equally 
charming.  As  might  be  expected  from  such  a  heroine,  her 
automobiling  plays  an  important  part  in  the  development 
of  the  plot.  Lady  Penelope  has  a  large  number  of  suitors, 
and  her  method  of  choosing  her  husband  is  original  and  pro- 
vocative of  delightful  situations  and  mirthful  incidents. 

The  Winged  Helmet 

By  HAROLD  STEELE  MACKAYE,  author  of  "The  Panchron- 
icon,"  etc.  With  six  illustrations  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library    I2mo,    cloth $1.50 

When  an  author  has  an  original  theme  on  which  to  build 
his  story,  ability  in  construction  of  unusual  situations,  skill 
in  novel  characterization,  and  a  good  literary  style,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  but  that  his  work  is  worth  reading.  "  The 
Winged  Helmet "  is  of  this  description. 

The  author  gives  in  this  novel  a  convincing  picture  of  life 
in  the  early  sixteenth  century,  and  the  reader  will  be  de- 
lighted with  its  originality  of  treatment,  freshness  of  plot, 
and  unexpected  climaxes. 

A  Captain  of  Men 

By  E.  ANSON  MORE. 

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A  tale  of  Tyre  and  those  merchant  princes  whose  discovery 
of  the  value  of  tin  brought  untold  riches  into  the  country 
and  afforded  adventures  without  number  to  those  daring 
seekers  for  the  mines.  Merodach,  the  Assyrian,  Tanith,  the 
daughter  of  the  richest  merchant  of  Tyre,  Miriam,  her  He- 
brew slave,  and  the  dwarf  Hiram,  who  was  the  greatest  artist 
of  his  day,  are  a  quartette  of  characters  hard  to  surpass  in 
individuality.  It  has  been  said  that  the  powerful  order  of 
Free  Masons  first  had  its  origin  in  the  meetings  which  were 
held  at  Hiram's  studio  in  Tyre,  where  gathered  together  the 
greatest  spirits  of  that  age  and  place. 


L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY'S 


The  Paradise  of  the  Wild  Apple 

By  RICHARD  LEGALLJENNE,  author  of  "Old  Love  Stories 
Retold,"  "  The  Quest  of  the  Golden  Girl,"  etc. 

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The  theme  of  Mr.  LeGallienne's  new  romance  deals  with 
the  instinct  of  wildness  in  human  nature,  —  the  wander  spirit 
and  impatience  of  tame  domesticity,  the  preference  for  wild 
flowers  and  fruits,  and  the  glee  in  summer  storms  and  ele- 
mental frolics.  A  wild  apple-tree,  high  up  in  a  rocky  meadow, 
is  symbolic  of  all  this,  and  Mr.  LeGallienne  works  out  in 
a  fashion  at  once  imaginative  and  serious  the  romance  of  a 
young  man  well  placed  from  the  view  of  worldly  goods  and 
estate,  who  suddenly  hungers  for  the  "wild  apples"  of  his 
youth.  The  theme  has  limitless  possibilities,  and  Mr.  Le- 
Gallienne is  artist  enough  to  make  adequate  use  of  them. 

The  Grapple 

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This  story  of  a  strike  in  the  coal  mines  of  Pennsylvania 
gives  both  sides  of  the  question,  —  the  Union  and  its  methods, 
and  the  non-Union  workers  and  their  loyal  adherents,  with 
a  final  typical  clash  at  the  end.  The  question  is  an  absorbing 
one,  and  it  is  handled  fearlessly. 

For  the  present  at  least  "The  Grapple"  will  be  issued 
anonymously. 

Brothers  of  Peril 

By  THEODORE  ROBERTS,  author  of  "Hemming  the  Adven- 
turer." 

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"  Brothers  of  Peril "  has  an  unusual  plot,  dealing  with  a 
now  extinct  race,  the  Beqthic  Indians  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, who  were  the  original  inhabitants  of  Newfoundland 
when  that  island  was  merely  a  fishing-station  for  the  cod- 
seeking  fleets  of  the  old  world. 

The  story  tells  of  the  adventures  of  a  young  English  cav- 
alier, who,  left  behind  by  the  fleet,  finds  another  English- 
man, with  his  daughter  and  servants,  who  is  hiding  from 
the  law.  A  French  adventurer  and  pirate,  who  is  an  unwel- 
come suitor  for  the  daughter,  plays  an  important  part.  En- 
counters between  the  Indians  and  the  small  colony  of  white 
men  on  shore,  and  perilous  adventures  at  sea  with  a  shipload 
of  pirates  led  by  the  French  buccaneer,  make  a  story  of 
breathless  interest. 


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